Walk A Lonely Road
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: Clary Dixon walks a lonely road, the only one she ever knew, and she doesn't know where it will go. She's never felt more alone in this world, especially after losing the prison and Beth in Atlanta. As they travel to Alexandria, they all walk down a line that divides them somewhere in their mind, on the border line of the edge.
1. Prologue: Atlanta

**Disclaimer: I own nothing aside from Clary.**

 **Also, I apologize for the long ass prologue. I had a lot of ideas but none of them were where to stop...**

 **Enjoy, muchachalatas (bonus points if you get that reference)**

* * *

Daryl, my older brother, keeps his hand around my wrist, keeping me close to him as we run from the things. They look like people, but there is no way in hell they are. "Daryl! Clary! You okay?" Jess, our uncle, calls as we approached.

We stop short seeing Will, our father, lying on the ground, his stomach torn open. His inside are on the outside. Even though I know that there's nothing we can do, I can't let the bastard die. "Dad," Daryl says, thinking the same thing. "Dad no." He looks at Jess. "We can, we could—"

"Daryl," Jess says. "He's too busted up. Nothing can be done now except ease his suffering."

Daryl looks over at me when he realizes what it means, standing. "Don't watch, Clars."

I'm frozen in shock, only able to watch, as Daryl cocks his gun. He aims it at Will's head, but he can't pull the trigger. Jess takes the gun from him, shaking his head at his unwillingness to kill the man that caused the both of us so much pain. Daryl puts his arms around me, blocking my view. I can hear it, though. "Sorry, brother," Jess says.

He fires.

We learned pretty quick that the way to kill them was the brain. That's all it took. Destroy the brain. Easier said than done, in all honesty.

As we drive away, I look at Jess, who sits beside me. "You're hurt," I say, seeing the mark on his arm.

"I'm fine," he says. "One of those assholes bit me. Can you believe it? Crazy son of a bitch."

"You sure?" I inquire, and he glares at me, silently telling me to shut the hell up. I flinch away, having seen that look on my father before. Daryl looks over, and glares at Jess when he sees me flinching away from him. About an hour later, we pull over to see what we have in the way of supplies. We decide to split up, each looking for supplies. "Hey, be careful," Daryl says as we break off. "It's nearly dark. If you can't see more than twenty feet in front of you, come back."

"You got it," I tell him, and we split up. I find mostly food, and come back when I fill a bag. I set it in Daryl's truck bed, and see Jess on his way over. "Find anything?" I call.

He doesn't respond, and that should worry me, but it doesn't. Most of the time, we respond to each other with shrugs and nods. I hear growling, and look around for the undead, what I've come to call walkers, but I see none. Maybe I'm hearing things. I call, "You hear anything, Jess?"

I turn just as he arrives, and see that he's the walker I heard. I can't help but let out a scream as he lunges for me. I fall on my back, trying to hold Jess off. _Not Jess, a walker,_ I remind myself. I scream for my brother, struggling against the walker. "Daryl!"

Jess is pulled off of me, and I see Daryl drive a knife into his brain. I push myself up, shaking. "You okay?" Daryl inquires, kneeling next to me.

I nod, unable to speak.

"You bit?" he asks. "Scratched? Hurt?"

I shake my head. Daryl pulls me to my feet, then pulls his knife out of Jess' head. "C'mon," he says. "Let's go."

We climb into the truck, just the two of us, traveling north. Thanks to Jess, we learn not to get bit. That was how you got infected. Jess was bit when he was killing what I can only describe as the undead. They're the walking dead. Walkers.

Daryl pulls over after driving for about an hour. I glance at the time on the clock. It says it's 9:30 PM. "Get some sleep," Daryl says, shutting the truck off. "I'll take first watch."

I curl up beside him, and he says, "Angels are watching over you, Clary."

I smile softly at that. I called him my guardian angel once, partly because of his angel winged vest and mostly because he always seems to be there, saving me just in time. Ever since, he says that to me if I go to sleep before him. I close my eyes, but only get about three hours of sleep in all. My mind is replaying today's events, racing with possible scenarios. I can't help but wonder what this is, what's causing this... this plague. I can't help but wonder what would've happened to me if Daryl wasn't there to save my life, or if he had been the one that had gotten bit.

These thoughts flood my mind while I'm awake, and creep into my dreams, becoming nightmares. I know at one point I start whimpering in my sleep, dreaming about a walker-Daryl coming after me, and me not able to kill it because it was him. My brother shakes me awake, asking me what's wrong. In response, I crawl into his lap, lying with my head on his chest. I shake, terrified of Daryl becoming one of them. He immediately puts his arms around me, attempting to comfort me. But what really comforts me is the beating of his heart, the familiar drumming in his chest. I close my eyes, listening to the thumping that tells me the person that matters most to me in this world is still here.

"It's okay," Daryl whispers, kissing my forehead. "Shh, Clary, shh. It'll be okay. I know it's hard. I know. We'll make it."

I want to open my mouth to speak, but I can't. I find myself unable to speak. I can't say the words that I know would result in a beating from my father to the man that would never, ever hurt me.

 _I'm scared._

* * *

We were about an hour outside of our hometown, Bronwood, when I spoke for the first time since Jess attacked me. "Sam," I whisper.

"What?" Daryl inquires, looking over at me.

"Sam," I say again. "We have to get Sam."

"Clary, he won't be there. And if he is, he's dead."

"Daryl! We have to get him! What if he's alive?"

Daryl stops the truck, looking at me. "He can't be there. The chances of him being in Bronwood are slim, and him still being alive are even smaller."

"Please, Daryl," I beg. "If it were me, you wouldn't stop until I was by your side."

"I know what you're doin', Clary. Don't you dare put me in that spot."

"Daryl, Sammy's my family. My blood. You go back for your blood. That's what we do."

He sighs. "We go back, we check. If we don't find him, we leave. And we go for Merle, and then to Atlanta."

We're quiet the rest of the way to Bronwood, and Daryl stops his truck down the road from the Widmore residence. We look at each other, then climb out. Daryl tosses me my crossbow, and we walk silently to the front door. The door is locked, but I pick up the key from under the rock and unlock it. Daryl enters first, his crossbow raised, and I follow, closing the door after us so no walkers can surprise us from behind.

We stand silently, listening. We use our skills picked up from hunting, and wait. In the kitchen, floorboards creak softly. Someone's sneaking around, trying not to be heard. I start towards the kitchen, Daryl following me closely. As I round the corner, I lower my crossbow, smiling. Sam stands across the table, holding a knife. His black hair is messy, not in its usual "Dan and Phil" style, and his blue eyes are wide. "Hey, Sam," I say.

He lowers his knife seeing us, sitting it on the counter behind him. "Clary? Daryl?"

I set my crossbow on the table, hugging him. Daryl stands back, proven wrong. Sam's here and he's still alive. I rest my head on his shoulder, and feel as though I could melt into him. He wraps his arms around me, resting his head on mine. "Oh my god, Clary," Sam whispers, kissing my forehead. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"I was so scared you were dead, Sammy," I say, looking up at him with tears in my eyes. "But I couldn't accept it. I knew you had to be alive. I knew it."

"My mom's dead," he tells us mournfully. "They got her a day ago. I haven't seen Seb in two weeks."

"I'm sorry, Sammy," I tell him. His father died when he was a young child, his mother left to raise both him and his older brother, Sebastian. His mother was the only parent he knew.

"Here, before I forget," Sam says, reaching into his pocket. "I have something for you."

He pulls out a necklace, and I see a silver ring on it. It's his ring, the one that he always wears. Sam puts it around my neck, saying, "Hold onto it for me, will you? In case something happens to me. Please, promise me, Clary. You won't ever leave your family."

"Hey, don't talk like that," I tell him, making him look at me. "We'll be fine."

"Either way, thanks for the memories."

"We are alive," I say. "And we're gonna stay that way."

"We're gonna die. It's just a matter of time."

"Sam!" I exclaim. "Stop! I didn't come back just for you to say things like that. We're gonna get out of here. Alive."

"Yeah, about that," Daryl says, turning away from the window. "It's gonna be a bit harder than that."

Sam and I look at each other, then go over to the window. Outside, walkers make their way forward, drawn by the sound of Sam's Doberman, Duke, barking. "Oh, shit," I say. "We're gonna have to run for it." I stand back, taking my crossbow. "Y'all ready?"

"Let's do it," Daryl says, putting his crossbow on his shoulder, ready to fire. I take Sam's hand, and he grabs his knife. "Sugar, we're goin' down swinging," he says with a smirk.

"I'll be your number one with a bullet," I reply as he kisses my cheek. We start out the door, running for Daryl's truck. "C'mon, Sam."

As we run, I hear growling get a little too close to us, and push Sam ahead of me. I swing my crossbow onto my shoulder, firing at the walker and killing it. I rejoin Sam, taking his hand again. "Clary, watch out!" Sam cries.

He pulls me away just in time, kicking a walker to the ground. He drives his knife into its head, then takes my hand again. We keep running, trying to get away from the walkers that never get tired, never have to rest. Suddenly, Sam screams in pain, and I turn to find a walker biting his arm. I try to pull him away, but the walker won't let go. Another joins it, pulling my only friend away from me. He tries to fight back, but he can't move his arm. I keep my grip on his hand, but he's slowly slipping away. More walkers stumble over, and Sam goes down under them, his screams filling the air. "Sammy!" I scream, and Daryl's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me back. "No, Sammy! Let me go, Daryl! Let me go!"

Daryl takes my crossbow, putting it over his shoulder and keeping his hold on me, practically dragging me away. I scream at him to let me go, and he finally takes my shoulders, making me look at him. "Clars, we can't do anything for him."

I know he's right, that the walkers already got Sammy, but that doesn't make his screams and cries for help any less painful. Daryl and I run from the place where Sam died, and I realize I should have listened to him. He didn't want to go back for Sammy, and my friend would still be alive if I listened to him. He really did go down swinging, I just didn't want it to be this soon.

* * *

The next day, we find Merle. We drive for a while, a day or two, then stop to refuel. We can't go too fast, because of the danger of the walkers. Of course, as we stop, nothing can go right. I make my way back towards the truck after looking for some batteries in a nearby convenience store, and I'm driven back by a group of the things. I see Daryl and Merle through them, but they don't see me. I can't make it to them, so I turn and run, heading north for Atlanta.

I run for a long time, losing track of how long and far I've been running. It's nearly dark by the time I stop, and look around where I am. I'm at a motel, one called the Travelier Motel, according to the sign. "Oh, shit," I say, seeing a walker.

I run over to a nearby ice machine, climbing inside to hide from it. I'm too tired to fight it at the current moment, and right now, hiding from them seems like the best option. I curl up into a ball inside the ice machine, my crossbow lying beside me. I make sure the door is closed again before allowing myself to drift off to sleep.

But, as usual, nothing can go right. I wake to a banging on the doors, and gasp in fear. I hold my crossbow, ready for a walker to open the door and attack me. But nothing happens. Then, I hear a voice from somewhere off to my left. "Hey, over here!"

 _What the hell?_ I think, wondering who the idiot is that's luring a walker away. It's a guy, I can tell by the voice. After a while, I decide that I can exit the ice machine, and see the walker lying dead a few feet to my left. Whoever the idiot was, he saved my life. I look up to the other rooms, and see a guy standing outside one of them. He looks to be arguing, maybe with someone inside. Then, I see walkers starting towards him. "Shit," I say.

I take off towards him, climbing the stairs two at a time. "Shit!" he exclaims, seeing the walkers.

A walker gets too close to him, so I fire at it. It goes down, and he looks at me. He's Korean, in his early twenties. He's got dark hair under a baseball cap, and dark eyes. He looks at the walker, then back at me as I lower my crossbow. I say, "C'mon, Short Round. I ain't got all day."

He's obviously in a daze. After all, I did just save his life. I sigh, taking his hand. I pull him along behind me, my crossbow on my back and knife in my hand. I stop at the ice machine, and open a door. "Get in," is all I say.

He climbs in, and I close the door once I'm in. "Glenn Rhee," he says quietly, so no walkers will hear him.

"Clary Dixon," I reply in the same quiet manner. Something touches me, and I flinch at the contact. "Easy," Glenn whispers, misinterpreting my flinch for a surprised jump. "Just me. Don't shoot."

I smile at that, surprising myself. It's the first time that I've smiled since I was reunited with Sam. I quickly stop, looking down. "Hey, little girl," I hear Glenn say.

"Name's Clary," I reiterate. "And I ain't a little girl."

"Not you," he replies. "I have a walkie."

I don't reply, just listen as he speaks into the walkie. "Hey, little girl. Hey there, this is Glenn, and, uh, I'm kinda in a jam here. Uh, little girl, if you're there, can you put your daddy on the phone, or the talkie, or whatever?"

Over the walkie, a man replies, "This is Lee. What's up?"

"So, I'm down at that motor inn, and, well, I'm stuck."

"Stuck?" Lee repeats.

"Yeah, I saw a chance to get some supplies for the group and a bunch of roaming ones got the jump on me. We're hiding over here but they won't leave."

"Hey, Glenn, we're gonna talk it over and send a group to come get you, alright?"

"Awesome. We'll sit tight till then."

"What do you mean, 'we?'"

I take the walkie from him. "Name's Clary. Ran into Glenn. We had to hide from the walkers."

We sit in silence for about fifteen minutes, and then I hear voices. A man, outside. I recognize it as Lee. "Glenn," I whisper. "They're here."

He opens the door, and says, "Guys. Thank god you're here."

"Jesus, Glenn," a girl says. Glenn climbs out, and gives me a hand to help me out, but I don't take it. I climb out on my own, and the girl stares at me. "Who the hell is that?"

Glenn and I climb over the wall, kneeling with them. "I'm Clary," I tell her.

"Carley," she replies.

"That wasn't so hard," Lee says.

"Can we get out of here before any of these things notice us?" Carley inquires.

"Not yet," Glenn says. "There's a survivor trapped up there."

"No way. We gotta go."

"Listen. I was out here looking for gas. And then, up there in the corner room, I heard crying coming from inside."

"Who is it?" Lee inquires.

"It's a girl. We talked and she got frightened. I was trying to get in and help her and she started yelling and saying I was bitten. I tried to convince her I wasn't and that's when all of these guys came out of the forest. That's when Clary showed up, saving my life. We ended up hiding in the ice machine."

"Lucky you," Carley replies. "You made a friend. Now, let's go!"

"We can't just leave her," Glenn says. I like him, he's loyal to people he doesn't even know, and wants to save whoever he can.

"Damn right we can't," Lee agrees.

"You guys are suicidal," Carley snaps. "Over a girl!"

"Majority rules," I say.

"I'm saving her, with or without you," Glenn says.

"You won't be alone," I assure him.

"Think about if it were you," Lee tells Carley.

"Fine!" she reluctantly agrees. "Let's go save Glenn's damsel in distress."

"Okay, this is the plan," Lee whispers as we gather around. "We don't know how hard it's going to be to get her out of that room."

"Yeah, it's boarded up," Glenn says.

"So we have to kill every one of them in here," Lee says.

Carley loads her gun, and I say quickly, " _Quietly_. Noise attracts these things. Now let's have a look around."

Lee leans around a wall, and comes back with a pillow. "Good luck smothering them to death," Carley snaps.

"That's not really what I have in mind," Lee replies. I peer over the wall, and see a walker on the other side of a car. I look over at the others, saying, "I saw one. Other side of that car."

"Be careful peeking around," Glenn warns. "If they get on our scent, we're toast."

"What do you see?" Carley inquires.

Lee looks out again, then says, "We can hide over by that RV if we keep our heads low."

So I follow Glenn and Lee over to the RV, Lee looking around the opposite side. "I'm not sure I could take them all on, even if I had a weapon."

"I think you're forgetting about something," I say, pulling my crossbow off my back. I lean around, putting my crossbow on my shoulder. I fire at the one closest to me, and it goes down. I reload, and make my way forward to the other one. I kill it, then hurry back over to the others, retrieving my arrows. "That was easy," I say, kneeling next to them.

We go back over to the wall, regrouping with Carley. I look at the walker by the car, the pillow in Lee's hands, and the gun in Carley's. "Get out your gun," I say. "Lee, pillow."

"But the noise!" Carley replies, as Lee hands me the pillow.

"Just follow me."

Carley and I hurry over to the walker, and I put the pillow in its face. Carley fires the gun, killing it, the pillow acting as a silencer. The three remaining walkers don't even react. Lee and Glenn follow us over, and I aim my crossbow at the walker down here. It goes silent, my bolt in its head. I look at Lee. "Might want to get that ax."

He nods and goes over to it, taking it from the case. We follow him upstairs, Glenn and Carley lagging behind. Lee kills one walker, while I kill the other. I gather my bolts, reloading my crossbow. Lee knocks on the door, calling, "Hello in there. We're here to help."

"Please, just go away!" comes a woman's reply.

"Let's go, guys," Carley says.

"No," I snap at her. "If we can help, we're helping. You go. You obviously don't care about the survival of others."

Lee keeps his attention on the woman inside, not noticing the standoff. "If you open up, we can take you somewhere safer," Lee says. "We've got a group in town."

"No no no!" she cries. "Please!"

"She's in trouble!" Glenn exclaims.

"Miss, we're coming in," Lee tells her. In one swing, he breaks the board on the door. He tries to open the door, but finds it's locked. He kicks the door, and the woman cries, "Stop! Just stop. I'm coming out."

She opens the door, and the first thing I see is the bite on her arm. "You're hurt," Lee says.

"We need to get you help," Glenn says.

"Glenn, she's bit," I say. "There's nothing we can do. You get bit, you get sick. You die, then you turn. It's too late for her."

"Please, just go away," she begs, then, she looks at the gun in Carley's hand. "You have a gun."

"So?" Carley inquires.

"Can I borrow it?"

"What do you mean, 'borrow?'"

"Give it to me. I can end this and then there's no problem."

"Whoa!" Lee exclaims, realizing what she means.

"Please," she begs. "I don't want to be one of them. They're… they're satanic."

Lee still refuses to give her the gun. She then turns to me. "You've seen people turn. I can tell. You know what'll happen. Please, I don't want to be one of them. Help me end it. Please, I beg you."

"Lee," I say. "Take Glenn and Carley away. I'll be down in a minute."

"Clary," Glenn says. "What're you gonna do?"

"Go!" I bark, looking at them. "I'm doing what needs to be done.

"You're just a kid," Lee argues. "I'll stay. I'll do it."

"You don't have the balls," I snap, and Lee glares at me. I pull out my own gun, a Beretta 92FS. "Go," I tell them, making sure a round is in the chamber. "Y'all don't need to see this."

"There's no changing her mind," Carley says. "She's putting a woman out of her misery. Let her."

With that, she turns and walks away. Lee follows hesitantly, and Glenn remains looking at me. "Go, Short Round," I tell him. "I'll see you in a minute."

He turns and walks away without another word, while I look at the woman. "Thank you," she breathes as I aim my Beretta. "Bless you, child."

Her body drops as the gunshot echoes through the motel.

* * *

Either I have terrible luck, or I'm cursed. Not long after we made it back to the rest of Lee's group, holed up in a pharmacy, the walkers come. They're attracted by an alarm ringing in another part of the store, where Lee and a girl named Lilly are gathering medicine for Lilly's father, Larry. "Oh, shit," I say as I hear the ringing.

Everyone scrambles to gather their gear, and I kneel in front of a little girl named Clementine. "Hey, you stay by me, okay?" I say, and she nods. "If we have to run, you stay with me. I'll keep you safe."

I look up as Lee comes over, and he tells her the same thing. Meanwhile, Kenny, another survivor, barks orders to everyone. "Oh, shit," I reiterate, seeing the dead start to push on the door. "The door! Now!"

Glenn, another survivor named Doug, Carley, and I push back against the door, struggling to keep it closed. Lilly calls for Glenn's help in another part of the store, and Lee takes his place. Both Carley and Doug try to say their goodbyes, but Lee isn't having it. "We will make it through this!" he barks.

The walkers push harder, and break in through a window. Carley picks off the two that try to climb in, and I yell, "Clem!"

She comes running, and I say, "I need you to look for something strong to put between the handles. Go!"

Clementine runs off, and Doug runs to another window. Carley picks off more walkers, ones that manage to get into the store. "Clem!" Lee yells. "Find anything?"

"Not yet!" she replies. "Wait!"

Clementine appears a moment later, carrying a cane. I take it, and shove it through the door handles. That's when we see that both Carley and Doug are in trouble, and we can't save one without losing the other. It's Carley that Lee chooses to save, tossing her more ammo. The walkers pull Doug out the window, and Kenny comes back, yelling that it's time to go. Clementine turns and runs toward them, but a walker grabs her ankles, and she goes down, letting out a scream. I put an arrow through its brain, and Lee picks her up. I run after them, retrieving my arrow. We flee the store, leaving it infested with walkers.

We drive to the Travelier Motel, knowing that we can hole up in there, a few days at least. Glenn and I stand by his car, listening to the broadcast. He and Lee are the only ones I can trust in this group, aside from Clementine. "Hey, Glenn," Lee says, walking over.

"One minute," Glenn replies, listening to the radio. It states that Atlanta is in a Stage Nine Catastrophe. "I think I need to go."

"To Atlanta?" Lee inquires.

"Yeah," Glenn says with a nod. "I got friends there, and I just can't stay here knowing they could be trapped in that city."

"Sounds like nobody knows what's happening there," Lee replies. "When we left a few days ago it could've gone either way."

"I gotta take my chances," Glenn says.

"And you won't be goin' alone," I say, and the two look at me. "If you're goin' to Atlanta, there's no way in hell you're goin' without me. I gotta find my brothers, and that's where we were heading."

"You gotta do what you gotta do," Lee says after a moment.

"And this is what we gotta do," I agree.

"You guys be safe," Glenn tells him.

"You, too," Lee says. I climb in the passenger seat of Glenn's car, throwing my crossbow in the backseat. Glenn climbs in beside me, and we drive away from the rest of them. We drive in silence for a while, then Glenn asks, "Are you okay?"

"I guess so," I reply. "As okay as someone can get. Why?"

"I mean, you just killed a person, Clary. Excuse me for being worried about you."

"I put her out of her misery, Glenn. That's what that was. Mercy killing. Not murder," I say, but his words still ring in my ears. _Excuse me for being worried about you._ He cares about my well being, even though we just met barely three hours beforehand. That's more than anyone, except for Daryl and Sam, has ever done for me. Before, no one cared about this redneck, but Glenn's something else. I know that I can trust him. And I've only trusted a handful of people my entire life.

* * *

We make it to Atlanta the next morning, or at least we should. The interstate leading in is blocked with traffic, helicopters and fighter jets flying overhead. I grab Glenn's hand when I see the first explosion in the distance, the first bomb falling on Atlanta. He looks at me in surprise, and I release his hand. "Sorry," I mutter.

"It's okay," Glenn replies softly, taking my hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. We climb out of his car, walking forward. We don't go far, meeting two families, or at least I assume it's two families. Two men, one fat and the other buff, two women, both thin and frail, and two kids. The boy looks to be my age, the girl about twelve.

Glenn walks up to the dark haired, buff man, while I linger behind. I can feel the boy watching me, and look over at him. I immediately notice he has dark hair and blue eyes, and think of Sam. I look down, then look up at Glenn, who's deep in conversation with the dark haired man. I hear footsteps beside me, and reach for my crossbow as I turn. I stop when I realize it's the boy that's my age, and look away from him. I flinch when he rests his hand on my shoulder, stepping back. "You okay?" he inquires.

"World's goin' to shit," I reply. "Ain't nobody okay."

"I'm Carl," he says. "Carl Grimes."

"Clary Dixon." I turn and run up to Glenn, and hear the dark haired man say, "We're thinking of setting up camp with the Peletiers. There's a quarry not far from here."

"Sounds like a good a place as any," I say. Glenn nods his agreement, then looks at the man and the woman with long hair. "Oh, Clary, this is Shane Walsh and Lori Grimes. The family back there is the Peletiers, Ed, Carol, and their daughter, Sophia. The boy is—"

"Carl," I say. "I know." I turn to Shane. "So, where's this quarry?"

* * *

It takes us about a day for us to set up the camp, and the first night, we all sleep around the main fire. Well, most of us do. The Peletiers—Carol, Sophia, and Ed—sleep away from the fire. I notice that Carol and Sophia pale when they see Ed coming close to them, and the way they flinch if he so much as moves his hand. If I had to guess, in what I've seen of him today, he hits them. They're abused. And the way that I know, is, well, I'm just like them.

I can't sleep, continuously tossing and turning. When I do sleep, it brings nightmares. At one point, I wake up, gasping, after having one of Glenn dying. I haven't even known the guy for two days, and I've already grown close to him. Close enough to know that I will do anything to keep him alive, like he's my brother. The way that my family's ending up, I don't think that it's a good thing.

I look around, watching to see if anyone saw me as I woke up. If anyone saw me in a state of weakness. Everyone is asleep, but I need to get away from them for a bit. I stand, walking over to the edge of the cliff. I look down at the quarry below, the moon's light glinting off its blue surface. I sit down on the edge, my legs dangling off the side.

"Daryl," I whisper, as if he's listening. "Daryl, if you're out there, if you're alive… please. Come find me. I can't do this without you. I need you here next to me. If I'm gonna survive this, then you need to be here with me. 'Cause I can't survive without you. I need my angel."

I look down, closing my eyes as an unwelcome tear leaks down from them. I silently curse myself. I can't bring myself to cry when I lose my best friend, but I'm crying because I was seperated from my brother? What the hell is wrong with me?

I wipe my eyes, standing. I go back over to the group, lying down closer to Glenn than I had been before. I look over at him, falling asleep still facing him.

* * *

Two weeks pass by at camp, and there is still no sign of Daryl, or Merle. Most nights, I spend an hour or more sitting on the cliff, alone. It's my spot, the place where I go when I need to be alone. For some reason, it calms me.

Two weeks after the first night, I wake up, hearing a voice outside my tent. I immediately notice that the voice is frantic, but I don't process what he's saying. I crawl out of my sleeping bag, unzipping my tent. I run a hand through my hair, so it at least looks somewhat decent when I stomp their ass. The first good night's sleep I have, and some asshole ruins it. I'm not in the mood for the emotional shit.

I rub my eyes, trying to wake up a little, and I see Glenn running around the camp. _What the hell is he doing?_

He wears only pajama bottoms, and his hair is messy. It's obvious that he just woke up. The thing that catches me off guard, though, is the look in his eyes. Glenn's scared. It's then that I realize that it's my name that he's calling in a whisper, not wanting to wake anyone. "Glenn," I say, and he turns to me. "What the hell are you doing? I was sleepin'."

Glenn suddenly wraps me in a hug, and I flinch at first. Then, I realize that he's not going to hurt me. But I still don't hug him back. I'm slightly uncomfortable, him being this close without a shirt. "Oh my god, Clary," he whispers, his voice shaking a little. "You're here."

"Where the hell else would I be?" I shoot back, as he pulls away. Then, when I see the way he's looking at me, I realize what he means. "Oh. I'm still here, Short Round. I'm not gone yet."

If it had been anyone else that hugged me, I would've stomped their ass. But Glenn, he's different. I trust him enough to hug me, and I don't trust anyone enough to hug me. I gently take his hand, leading him to my spot on the cliff. We sit down next to each other, and he asks, "What is this place?"

"It's where I go when I need to think, or be alone," I tell him. "It calms me, in a way." He nods, keeping his eyes cast down, and I ask, "Hey, you okay?"

Glenn looks over at me, then, like a little kid, he says quietly, "I had a nightmare."

"I get 'em, too," I say softly, taking his hand. "What was it about?"

"You," Glenn replies. I cock my head to the side, silently questioning what he means. "I had a dream that you were attacked by the geeks. You know, them. And that you… died. It took place here, at camp. I was so scared it was real, Clary. I had to find you."

He rests his forehead on my shoulder, and I let him. I rub his back, his skin smooth and unmarked, unlike mine. "The first night here," I admit, "I had a nightmare that you were dead."

Glenn shakes, close to crying. "Hey," I say. "Look at me. Look at me, Glenn." He pulls back hesitantly, looking at me. "I'm right here. I ain't goin' nowhere. And I won't go down without a fight."

"Come with me tomorrow," Glenn says suddenly. "On the run."

"I would," I tell him. "But I need to hunt. We need fresh meat."

Glenn nods, and we stand. "Go back to bed, Glenn," I tell him. "I'm still kickin' ass and takin' names. Don't worry 'bout me."

We start back to our tents, and Glenn suddenly wraps me in another hug. I smile slightly, hugging him back. "I'll be here when the morning comes 'round," I tell him. "And if you need me, you know where to find me. I'll always be there for you."

We're getting ready to part when Glenn asks, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?" I ask. "You mean hunt?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I mean, this. Surviving. You lost your brothers, and I want to think that I'm all you have, but, I mean, we just met. You're so brave, all the time. I've never seen you scared. You never falter, never break."

I look at him for a moment, silent. "It's all a facade."

I turn and walk into my tent, leaving him standing in the clearing, alone. About two hours later, while it's still dark out, I'm up again. This time, I'm getting ready to hunt. I lace up my boots, sitting alone in my tent meant for three. I look around it, suddenly feeling very alone. "God, Daryl," I whisper. "Where the hell are you?"

When I get no reply, I stand, sneaking out of camp with my crossbow on my back. I shoot a few squirrels early in the morning, stringing them on a cord and throwing it over my shoulder. A little after noon, I stop next a creek, washing the squirrel blood off my hands. I look at my reflection in the creek, and I find a dirt-covered, dangerous-looking, survivor staring back at me. Is that all that I am now? A survivor that'll do anything to survive? Including killing?

I swipe my hand in the water, ripples blurring my reflection. I stand and walk off, back towards camp, hoping to find something more on the way back. When I'm not far from camp, I hear voices up ahead, and start forward. One's loud and obviously abusive, the other soft and quiet. I stop just inside the treeline, watching. A large, fat, pigheaded man stands over a frail woman that I recognize to be a woman named Carol. She's Sophia's mother. I see the young blonde girl cowering with her mother, both of them in the man's shadow. Ed, I remember his name being. Ed yells something that I don't quite catch, but I do catch him calling her a bitch.

My hand curls into a fist at his comment, and I snap when I see him slap her. Carol falls to the ground with the force of it, and Sophia remains standing, bravely facing Ed on her own. Ed starts to walk over to Sophia, raising his hand. "Oh hell no," I say.

I step out of the clearing, and pick up a small rock. It's not that big, about the size of a golf ball. I throw it at Ed, hitting him in the arm. "Hey, asshole!"

He turns to me as I start forward, and staggers back when I punch him in the face. "You little bitch," he hisses, gently touching his nose. "You'll pay for that."

Before I can react, he backhands me. I stumble to the side a step or two, but I don't fall. I've had practice before with things like this. I kick Ed in his balls, slightly surprised that he has any, and he falls to his knees. I punch him in the face, and he falls on his back. I kneel over him, punching him, ignoring my bloody knuckles. I put my knife at his neck, growling, "If you ever, _ever_ , fucking touch them again, _I will fucking kill you_. I will not stop next time. You hear me? I'll beat you to death, Ed. I'll beat you to _death._ "

"Who the hell are you?" he says, and I'm surprised he can still speak.

"I'm Clary fucking Dixon, you son of a bitch. And I'm your worst nightmare."

I remove my knife from his neck, punching him again for good measure. I stand, going over to Carol and Sophia, helping Carol to her feet. She sobs, staring at her husband. I lead them away, and Sophia looks up at me. "What did you just do?"

"If he _ever_ touches either of you," I say, my voice cold, "you come straight to _me_. Don't hesitate. 'Cause I won't. I'll kill the bastard, if it's the last thing I ever do."

"But _what did you do?"_ Sophia asks.

I reply, "I fixed what needed fixin'."

* * *

After the hunting incident with Ed, Sophia starts spending more time with me, and soon, so does Carl. A week passes, no sign of my brothers. I begin to worry that they didn't make it out, and begin to wonder what the hell I'm going to do.

Carl and I sit next to each other at the fire one evening, about three weeks after me and my brothers were separated, and I mess with the holes in my jeans. Anything to keep my mind off Glenn. "Worried about Glenn?" Carl inquires, as if he can read my mind.

"He's never been gone this long," I reply, a little too quickly with a little too much emotion. _Don't show them,_ I silently tell myself. _Don't let them see your weakness. Glenn's gonna be okay. Just because he's not back yet doesn't mean anything. He wouldn't leave you._

Most of the time, when Glenn goes on a run in the city, he's back before dark. Now, it's nearly midnight, and he's still gone. "I'm sure he's fine," Carl says.

I happen to glance over Carl's shoulder as I open my mouth to reply, but no sound comes out. "Clary?" Carl inquires, looking at me, concern in his voice.

"Daryl," I manage, seeing them. My two brothers stand with Shane, my eyes landing on the younger one. I scramble to my feet, calling, "Daryl!"

The dark haired one with a crossbow turns, and I smile seeing him. His eyes go wide seeing me across the camp, and calls, "Clary?"

"Daryl!" I exclaim, not even bothering to restrain myself as I go sprinting across camp. I pretty much launch myself into his arms, and Daryl wraps his arms around me, picking me up. I bury my face in his shoulder, my arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his waist. He hugs me back tightly, whispering, "I thought I lost you, Clars. I was so scared you were dead."

I'm close to crying in my brother's arms, refusing to let go of him. "Daryl," I whimper, his name all that I'm able to say. "Daryl."

"I'm right here," he replies. "I'm right here, Clars. And I ain't goin' nowhere." Over my shoulder, he says, "Thank you."

"No problem," I hear Glenn reply, and I look at him, still hanging on to Daryl. "This was you?" I ask. "You brought them here?"

He nods, and I let go of Daryl, hugging him. "Thank you, Glenn," I say. "Thank you so much."

"It's not a big deal," Glenn tells me, pulling back. "I'd do anything for my friends."

I smile at that, turning to look at Merle. I'm even happy to see him, surprisingly. "Hey, Merle."

He nods once, not one for showing any emotion, even when reunited with family. Daryl takes my hand, and we sit next to each other at the fire. I lean into him, my back pressing into his chest. I can feel his heart beating, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I take his hand, threading my fingers through his. With his free hand, he brushes my hair over my shoulder in a constant pattern. After a while, he stops, dropping his hand. Daryl puts his arm around me, almost protectively, gently pulling me closer to him. I yawn, resting my head on his shoulder. Daryl kisses my forehead, whispering, "Sleep now, Clars. I'm here. Angels are watching over you."

"I love you, Daryl," I whisper in reply, letting myself relax for the first time in a while. I fall asleep, safe in my brother's arms, before he can reply.

And that's the story of how I got to Atlanta. How I found in a brother in a Korean I dubbed Short Round. And, even though I didn't know it at the time, the story of how a kid named Carl became a part of me. It's also the story of how I came to be who I am. I guess you could say it's my origin story, 'cause every hero's got one, right?

Though, the thing is, I'm not sure if I really am the hero.

I'll let you be the judge of that.


	2. Butcher

**_~Rick~_**

While Daryl watches the door, the others start to make weapons with anything they can find. We've been in here for an hour, and we haven't seen any movement since the Termites threw us in the train car. We're all in here, except for Carol, Tyreese, Judith, and Beth. All the others are dead, we think. But we've gained three new members. Ginger, Rock of Ages, and Annie Oakley in the shorty-shorts, as Clary called them before we knew their names. In reality, their names are Abraham, Eugene, and Rosita. As it turns out, Eugene is a scientist, and Abraham is hell bent on getting him to Washington.

"We got four of them pricks coming our way," Daryl warns, stepping back from the door. I slide a stake of wood down my boot, hiding the extra weapon. The others hide theirs for the moment, but we're ready to fight.

"Y'all know what to do," I say, starting towards the door. "Go for their eyes first. Then their throats."

We stand in a fighting stance, all watching the door. I look around, watching as they ready their weapons for a fight, Clary flipping out her switchblade. "Get ready," she mutters.

"Put your backs to the wall at either side of the car now," one of the men call. We look up as we hear footsteps on the roof, and a hatch opens, letting sunlight stream in. A small round object is tossed in, and we all look down at it for a second. "Move!" Abraham shouts.

We all dive away as the smoke grenade goes off. It blocks our vision, smoke filling our lungs. A hand grabs my arm, pulling me out of the train car. I try to fight back, and so do the others that are dragged out, but we're still under the effects of the smoke. I'm half out of it as my hands are tied together, and dragged along. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daryl, Glenn, and Bob being dragged with me.

We're taken into a building, a saw whirring as two men stand over a body. I'm pushed to my knees in front of a trough, the others beside me and four others from another car. Daryl fights even harder than I was as they push him to his knees, struggling to get free. At the very end, the farthest away from me, I see the same blonde hair boy that I ran into with Carol and Clary. Sam, I think his name was. He stares down at me, pleading for help. I look away from him as I hear the sound of knives being sharpened, turning to see one of the two butchers sharpening a long knife. "All right," he says, starting down towards the other end of the trough.

The bald butcher swings a metal baseball bat, knocking Sam unconscious. The other lifts his head, slicing his neck, before dropping his back down. Blood spurts from his sliced esophagus as the men from his car all start screaming, the gags over their mouths muffling it. They kill the next two in quick succession, pausing a moment before killing the fourth. I reach down, pulling the stake out of my boot as they slice the neck of the third. I grip it in my hand, getting ready to attack as they let the third man drop. I lower my hand as the leader, Gareth, comes in, a notebook in his hand. "Hey, guys," he says, announcing his presence. "What were your shot counts?"

"Thirty-eight," the bald one answers, swinging his bat and knocking the fourth man from the other car unconscious. They do their routine, and just as they get ready to swing the bat on Glenn, Gareth says, "Hey."

They stop, looking at their leader. "Your shot count?" Gareth asks the one with the knife.

"Crap, man, I'm sorry," he says. "It was my first round up."

"After you're done here, go back to your point and count the shells," Gareth orders. "They won't be gathering them until tomorrow." Bob says something, but it's muffled by his gag as Gareth looks us over. "Four from A, four from D?"

"Yeah," one of the butchers answers.

"Hey, let me talk to you for a minute," Bob says. Gareth pulls the gag off his mouth. "Don't do this. We can fix this."

"No, you can't," Gareth tells him.

"You don't have to do this," Bob begs. "We told you there's a way out of all of this. You just have to take a chance. We have a man who knows how to stop it. He has a cure. We just have to get him to Washington. You don't have to do this, man. We can put the world back to how it was."

Gareth shakes his head. "Can't go back, Bob."

"We can!" Bob tries to protest as Gareth puts his gag back on. "You don't have to do this!"

Gareth kneels in front of me, pulling my gag off. "We saw you go into the woods with a bag and come out without it," he tells me. "Had to pull my spotters back before we could go look for it. What was in it?" I don't answer. "You hid it, right? In case things went bad? Smart. Still, we'll find it. But it's too dangerous to go out there right now." Gareth draws his knife, pulling Bob closer to him, and holding it up near his eye. "What was in it? I'm curious. And it was a big bag. You really gonna let me do this?"

"Well, let me take you out there," I tell him. "I'll show you."

"Not gonna happen." He moves the knife closer. "This might."

"There's guns in it," I answer, and he stops. "AK-47, uh, .44 Magnum. Automatic weapons. Nightscope. There's a compound bow, Clary's crossbow, and a red handled machete." I look at him. "That's what I'm gonna use to kill you."

Gareth chuckles, pulling his knife away as he releases Bob. He puts my gag back on, patting my shoulders. "Thanks." He stands, now addressing the butchers. "You have two hours to get them on the driers. I'm gonna go back to public face. Now's the time we can get messy, but we need to dial it all in by sundown."

The butchers both give variations of acknowledgement, and everyone looks up, slightly confused, when there's gunshots. Gareth pulls out his walkie talkie, attempting to reach some dude named Chuck. The bald butcher goes to swing the bat yet again, but stops when there's another gunshot. Suddenly, there's an explosion, knocking all of us to the ground. After a moment, we all come to our senses, looking around. Gareth barks to the butchers to stay put as I pull out the stake, trying to cut the zipties around my hands as quickly as I can. "C'mon," the bald one says. "We've got a job to do."

The butcher with the knife pulls out a walkie talkie, saying, "You there, Gareth?"

"He's busy," the bald one says.

"You smell the smoke? You hear the shots? He could be dead! The hell we doing here?" he asks, turning away and towards the door as the bald butcher walks over to him. "The whole place could be going up!"

"You went on one round up and blew protocol. We don't deal with security. That ain't our job. This is." The one with the knife starts towards the door as I get to my feet, making my way over to the bald one. "Hey, look at me."

The one with the knife turns just as I stab the bald butcher in the neck, killing him. I go to do the same to the other, but someone beats me to it. She slices his neck with a knife, inquiring, "Why so serious?"

The butcher drops to the ground, and I see Clary standing behind him, the blade of her weapon soaked in blood. "What's that from?" I inquire, knowing that I've heard it before.

" _Batman,"_ she replies with a shrug, then spots Daryl. Clary runs over to her brother, dropping to her knees behind him and quickly cutting the ties on his hands. She moves around to face him, pulling the gag off of him. He wraps his arms around her, and Clary puts one arm around him, murmuring words I can't hear to him as she cuts the ties on Glenn's hands. Clary turns to her attention to her brother, saying, "It's alright. You're free." She tilts his head, forcing him to look at her. "Daryl, hey, breathe with me."

"I'm good," he says after a moment.

"If they got problems, we got a chance," I tell them, cutting Bob's ties.

"It sounded like a bomb," Glenn says.

"Sounds like a damn war," Daryl corrects, pulling away from Clary as they get to their feet.

"Then let's go fight it," Clary says, stepping up with Glenn to put a knife through the brains of the dead. I stop them by saying, "Let 'em turn."

"Who the hell are these people?" Bob inquires.

"They ain't people," Daryl says.

"How the hell did you get out?" Glenn inquires.

"Magician never reveals her secrets," Clary says. "Let's go."

I catch up to Daryl as we make our way out, and ask, "You okay?"

He glares at me, still obviously pissed for kicking his sister out. Clary leads us through the building, and we come into a room with torsos, human torsos, hanging from the ceiling. "You come across any of these people, you kill them," I order. "Don't hesitate. They won't."

"C'mon," Clary barks. "We need weapons."

She starts towards the door as the rest of us find things to use as weapons, and she watches through the glass. Glenn and I join her at the door, Daryl and Bob behind me. She looks out at the walkers surrounding a train car, distracted by the man shouting inside. "If we run, we can get by them," Clary says. "They're distracted."

"We gotta let those people out," Glenn argues, and Clary looks over at him. "That's still who we are. It's gotta be."

"That's still who y'all are," Clary says, shooting a glare in my direction.

"Now's not the time for this shit," I snap at her. "And I thought you said we're good."

Clary glances at Daryl, then turns back to me. "I said I understood why you did it. I never forgave you for it." She glances at Glenn. "I killed Karen."

"Shit," he breathes, then glances back outside. "Now's not the time. We've gotta get those people out."

"Alright," I agree. I open the door, and we run out, taking out the walkers distracted at the train car. Glenn opens the door, and a bearded man with tattoos comes running out at him, yelling something about how we're the same. He grabs Glenn by the shoulders, and Clary immediately reacts, kicking the tattooed man in the side and away from her sidekick. He stumbles over to me, grabbing my shoulders. I put up an arm to push against him, barking, "Back off!"

"We're the same," he replies, not moving. I shove him away as he begins to laugh hysterically, and he stares at us as he laughs. A walker suddenly appears, knocking the tattooed man to the ground before biting into his neck. Glenn quickly kills the walker, and Daryl pulls him back so he's not seen by the horde of walkers that start stumbling past. We watch, trying our best to come up with a plan. The walkers are coming from where A is, but we can't fight through them with just knives. "We've gotta double back," Bob says.

"A is that way," I argue. "We go back, we don't know where we are."

"We don't really have much of a choice, do we?" Daryl inquires. We turn as gunshots sound, Termites arriving to take care of the walkers. "Wait here," I tell them.

I take off, ducking down behind a car, knife drawn. I look at the mirror on the ground, using it to see where the enemy is. They take down the first wave, and I turn just as a walker appears. Daryl is right behind it, killing it before it even touches me. They take down the second wave, making their way forwards, past us. I get up to take down the last one, a man in the far back, but Clary beats me to it yet again. She slices his neck, quickly taking his gun and firing on the others. She turns, looking back the way they came, for anyone else. "Damn," I mutter. "I was gonna do that."

"Let's go!" Clary barks, picking up a gun from the first one she killed. She looks over at us, as we slowly step out towards her. "We don't have to double back. Now, c'mon. We ain't got much time."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

I slide open the door to A, Rick and the others covering me. "C'mon!" I yell to the others inside, firing on the walkers. "We fight to fence! Go!"

Those of us with guns take care of walkers getting close to use from the sides and behind, while the others make a path ahead. "Watch your ass, Rhee!" I call, taking down a walker that was nearing him.

We make it to the fence, Rosita calling to us, "Up and over! Let's go!"

"Rick!" I bark, turning to see Gareth and few others on a roof. "We got company!"

We fire up at them while Abraham pushes everyone over the fence, yelling at Rick and I to hurry our asses up. He pushes Rick over first while I cover us for the last few seconds. "C'mon, Shorty," he tells me.

He gives me a boost up, pushing me over. "Watch it, Ginger!" I call as I feel his hand on my ass. "We just met!"

Not gonna lie, the drop was a bit farther than I expected, and I fall on my ass. I roll away as Abraham drops down beside me. We all pause for a moment, catching our breath, and I look over at him. "Buy me a drink first," I tell him, and he holds up a hand in apology. "Let's go."

Daryl and Rick lead us through the woods towards the buried duffle, Rick digging it up as Abraham inquires, "The hell are we still around here for?"

"Guns, some supplies," Rick answers. "We'll go along the fences, use the rifles. Take out the rest of 'em."

I kneel beside him, taking my crossbow and putting it over my shoulder. I reload my gun, fixing up an extra mag. "What?" Glenn inquires.

"They don't get to live," I say. "In this world, you're either the cattle or the butcher. And I'm done being the cattle."

"Jesus, Clary, what the hell happened to you?" Glenn says. "We got out. It's over."

Rick takes his Colt Python out of the bag, looking up at the others. "It's not over till they're all dead."

"The hell it isn't. That place is on fire," Rosita argues.

"So was Woodbury," I snap, even though I know that she won't understand. The others will, though. They'll understand why we have to go back in. "I went back to check, and found it on fire. But Governor still rolled up to our fences. It wasn't over."

"I'm not dicking around with this crap," Abraham says. "We just made it out."

"The fences are down," Maggie says as Rick stands. "They'll run or die."

I follow Rick up, then immediately feel dizzy. During everything in Terminus, I had adrenaline pumping, and I didn't feel the concussion. Now that we're out, however, it's starting to fade. I grab for Glenn's arm, and he looks at me in confusion. "Clary? Shit, Clary, hey!"

He catches me as I start to fall, and I grab his arm, holding on tight. "Clary?" he asks, concerned. "You okay?"

"Just a little dizzy," I reply, closing my eyes and hoping that the world will stop spinning. When I open them, Glenn's kneeling on the ground beside me, looking up as Rick fills him in on my current condition. He looks back down at me. "And you snuck out to fight?" Glenn inquires. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Adrenaline," I answer. "Didn't feel anything till just now."

I look around for Daryl, surprised that he wasn't right beside me, and I find him about twenty feet away, embracing someone. He moves slightly, and I immediately recognize the figure. "Carol?" I breathe.

The others turn, and Rick makes his way over as Daryl and Carol finally pull away, looking at each other. "That was you?" Rick inquires.

Carol gives a nod, and he immediately hugs her. I get to my feet, pushing away Glenn's hands as he tries to push me back down, and I start towards the woman that's been like a mother to me. "Carol!" I cry, and she immediately breaks away from Rick.

She wraps me in a hug, and I lean into her without hesitating, nearly sobbing in relief at seeing her. "I'm so sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Carol. I shouldn't've left."

"No, no, no," she quickly shushes me. "It's alright. It's alright. It's what I needed to get me to come back."

"I'm sorry," I whisper. I look up as I feel Daryl's hand on my back, and I break away from Carol, leaning against Dayl for support. Carol turns to Rick, saying, "You've gotta come with me."

He nods once, packing everything into the duffle bag, including my dropped machine gun, and swinging it onto his shoulder. I notice Daryl has his crossbow back as he takes mine, putting it over his shoulder. Carol leads us through the woods, away from Terminus, and out onto a dirt road. When we come to the crest of it, I see an old cabin, Tyreese coming outside of it, Judy in his arms. Rick drops the duffle bag, running forward to take his baby, Carl right behind him. Sasha runs forward, and I stop short upon seeing her brother. They hug, while my brother's hand tightens around mine. I look at him, Tyreese, then back to Daryl. "It's time for the reckoning," I say. "Whatever happens, happens. Don't hold anything against him. Whatever punishment he dishes out, I deserve it, okay? I did this."

I let go of his hand as Tyreese lets go of Sasha, but Daryl grabs my wrist. He pulls me into a tight hug, burying his face in my shoulder, and I close my eyes, leaning against him. "Just in case," my brother whispers, his voice shaking slightly. "One last time."

"Love you, Daryl," I reply.

"Love you, too, Cheyenne," Daryl whispers. I pull back after a moment more, and Daryl leans forward, kissing my cheek. "Please, Cheyenne. I'll take care of it if he tries to hurt you."

"I deserve it," I reply. "Goodbye, Daryl."

I lightly touch Glenn's arm as I pass him, whispering, "Love you, Glenn."

I walk forward until I'm a few feet away from the man that will hold my life in his hand. I start, "Tyreese, I—"

"I know," he says. "I understand. I forgive you."

I look down under his forgiving gaze, having expected to have to fight for my life. I hadn't expected him to forgive me. I look up at him, and manage, "I'm so sorry, Ty."

He crosses the space separating us in two strides, hugging me. I'm hesitant at first to hug him back, but I do. It must be an odd sight, the two of us. A big, burly, black man and a small, thin, white, redneck. I look at Carol, and she gives me a small nod. She told him, and he forgave me. I'm allowed to live. For now.

* * *

 **Guess who's back, back again**

 ***twaimz voice* It's me, bitch.**

 **Sorry I'm tired.** ** _Anyway_** **, I was listening to one to the Walker Stalker podcast when I was writing the outline for this chapter, and Norman mentioned that when he has to shoot a scene where he's tied up (aka the scene from Boondock Saints where ~spoiler alert~ R**** dies and Murphy and Connor are tied to the chairs) it freaks him out, so I figured I'd include Daryl having a fear of being tied up (aka merinthophobia (wow much science))**


	3. Strangers

**_~Carl~_**

We spend the rest of the day walking, just trying to get away from the flaming hell of Terminus. Dad is always in the lead, and I never leave Clary's side, telling her that I'm ready to catch her if she falls. She tries to tell me that she's fine, but I refuse to leave her side. It's nearing sundown when we stop, my dad immediately organizing watch shifts for everyone. Clary tries to volunteer for one, and he shakes his head. "You're one of our best fighters, but you're out for now," he says. "You need to rest. We need you if we want to stand a chance against them."

She frowns, then looks down at me when I pull her to the ground beside me. "He's right, you know," I tell her, taking her hand. "You need rest if you want to be back in the fight."

"Dammit," she sighs, turning to lay with her head in my lap. "I hate when you're right."

"What? I'm not allowed to be right?"

"I meant with things like this," Clary says, closing her eyes. I start to run my fingers through her hair, but she grabs my wrist, looking up at me. Softly, she whispers, "Don't leave, okay?"

"I won't," I promise her. "I'll be right here."

She nods slowly, then releases my hand, closing her eyes. The ginger, Abraham, kneels in front of us, brandishing sticks and a lighter. He grins over at us as he lights the fire, asking, "She your girl?"

"One and only," I reply. "We only met because of all this. She was with Glenn in the beginning."

"That why she cares so much about him?" I nod once. "Makes sense. The way he hugged her. How he didn't hesitate to catch her."

"Glenn's a good guy," I say. Abraham nods his agreement before getting up, walking off to talk with my dad. I look up at the sky, surprised at how dark it's getting already. Night falls quickly as we all start settling down around the fire, wanting to stay warm as the weather's starting to get cold again.

I close my eyes for a moment as I lean back against a tree, then glance down at Clary, who lies with her head my lap. I smile softly as I brush her hair out of her face, and in her sleep, she leans into my touch. I look up at Daryl across the camp, who watches every move I make. I look back down at Clary as she mutters, "No, no no." Her voice rises with each word, coming to a shriek as she cries, "No, please!"

"Clary!" I cry, shaking her shoulders. "Wake up! C'mon!"

She wakes with a gasp, wrapping her hands around my wrists. She squeezes her eyes shut as she leans into me, and I can feel her chest heaving with each rapid breath. Clary wraps her arms around me, her nails scratching my skin as she clutches my shirt in her hands, trembling beneath my hands as I wrap my arms around her. "Shh," I whisper to her. "It's alright, Clars. They're not gonna hurt you. They're gone."

I glance up, holding out a hand to silently tell Daryl that I've got her. "Carl," she mumbles, her voice muffled by my shoulder. "Please. Don't let them hurt me."

"I would never even let them close," I whisper. I gently stroke her hair, something that I've noticed that calms her when she was sleeping with me and had a nightmare. "They're all dead. We don't need to worry about them anymore. It's alright."

"It was so close to Will," she says, and I freeze. I knew her father was a bastard, a poor excuse of a man, but I never knew he was sick like that. "Clary," I whisper so only she hears me. "Did he ever…"

"No," she answers. "He got damn close a time or two. But he never did."

I let out a shaky sigh of relief when I learn that she was never raped by her father. I'm not sure what else I can do, so I ask her, "What do you want me to do?"

"Just hold me," she replies. I hold her tighter, keeping her close to my chest, and even if I wasn't holding her, she refuses to let go of my shirt. "I've got you, Clary," I whisper to her. "It's alright. I've got you."

Slowly, her breathing evens out, and she relaxes a bit, until she falls asleep in my arms about half an hour later. "She okay?" Daryl inquires.

"She'll bounce back," I say with a nod. "She always does." I look down at her, speaking to her now, even though I know she won't hear me. "You have to. You're the strongest of all of us. We need you. _I_ need you."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

The second night away from Terminus, we sit around the fire yet again. Daryl and Carol are on watch, while I sit between Glenn and Tara. I look over, studying the new addition to the group, and realize that she resembles the woman with the dead daughter, back at the prison. "Tara?" I ask softly.

She looks over. "Hmm?"

"I hate to ask, but, um, did you have a sister? Who had a daughter?"

Tara nods slowly, then wipes her eyes. "Someone killed her. I don't know who it was. I couldn't see. I just remember a gunshot, and then Lilly dropped."

I put my head in my hands, running my fingers through my hair as I try to pull myself together. Finally, I look up at her. "I'm so sorry, Tara. I'm so sorry."

Tara stares at me for a long time before she finally comes to terms with what I mean. "No," she says slowly, quietly. "You didn't…"

"I'm so sorry," I repeat. "Her daughter was gone. I saw the Governor put a bullet in her head. I could tell just by looking that your sister didn't have what it took to survive. And…" I look down, remembering all the pain that losing Sophia caused Carol. But they were different. Carol's nothing like Lilly, she has what it takes to survive. "I've seen what it does, losin' your daughter." I gather enough courage to face Tara again. "I put her out of her misery. I'm so sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me. You've seen what all I've done."

Tara looks past me, at Glenn. I don't look, so I don't know exactly what he does. "I forgive you." I look at Tara, not having expected that. The same way I never expected Tyreese to forgive me. "I get it. I get why you did it. I wouldn't've wanted her to have to deal with all that pain. I forgive you."

I nod slowly, showing that I acknowledge her. She raises a fisted hand, which I reply by giving her a fist bump. "Alright," she says.

"Alright," I echo softly. Glenn bumps my shoulder with his, smiling softly at me. We look up as Carol appears from the darkness of the forest, the campfire illuminating a rather serious look on her face. I stand, facing her. "Carol?" I inquire. "What is it? What's going on?"

"I don't want to alarm anyone," she says slowly. "But we think we're being watched."

Rick and I look at each other across camp. "We should've stayed," I say. "We should've finished it. If that's them, then they had a chance to regroup. They're following us."

"Now hold up," Abraham says, standing as well. "We don't know if it's them."

"Who else could it be?" Rick inquires. "If it was a walker, it'd've shown itself."

"We have every reason to believe that it's them," I say, keeping my voice low. "We don't know how many are out there. Thing is, there's a chance that they don't know that we know about them. Act normal, stay quiet, and keep an eye out. Nobody goes anywhere alone. If it really is them, we'll hunt them down in the mornin'. Won't do no good to go out there now."

I take a seat with Glenn and Tara again, subtly scanning the woods. "You'd make a good leader," Tara says.

"I don't see myself as a leader," I mutter.

"You're good at judging the situation correctly," Glenn says after a moment. "You always clearly know what you're supposed to do, don't you? Your orders are right."

"Easy there, Freckled Jesus," I say. Tara snorts, trying not laugh.

"Hey, it's why I'm alive," Glenn says with a shrug.

"He dies like five episodes later."

"That's beside the point. You understand what I mean, don't you? You'd make a great leader if you trusted yourself more."

"That's exactly why I'm not a leader," I say. For the rest of the night, we try to rest, needing to appear like everything's normal, but we're all on edge. In the early hours of the morning, Glenn forces me to at least get a few hours of rest, and I lean against his shoulder, using him for heat as well as the fire. I hardly sleep, still on my toes as I wait for the attack that I know will happen sooner or later.

The next morning, Daryl enlists my help to check the surrounding woods for any sign of the Termites. "You've gotta be kiddin'," he says when we find nothing, heading back towards the group. "I know I ain't imaginin' it."

"Hell no," I agree. "I believe you. Somethin' ain't right."

We stumble back upon the group, those armed turning their weapons towards us. Daryl and I mockingly raise our hands, my brother saying, "We surrender."

He joins up with Rick in the lead, and I fall in directly behind him, beside Carl. "No tracks, no nothin'," my brother reports.

"So whatever you heard last night," Rick starts.

"It's more of what I felt. If someone was watchin' us, there would've been somethin'."

"Your feelings, they tend to be right," I say. "I don't know why in the holy hell we couldn't find anythin'."

Rick turns towards the others, ordering, "Keep close. C'mon, tighten it up."

He drops back to walk with Abraham, discussing our next move travelwise. Carl and I listen as Bob and Sasha play their little game, Bob finding the good out of whatever bad Sasha comes up with. Carl smirks beside me, and I ask, "What?"

"It's us," he remarks.

I shake my head. "No, it ain't."

Ahead of us, Daryl snorts. "Sheriff Junior's right. It's you two."

Carl sticks his tongue out at the back of Daryl's head, displeased with the nickname. "I know you ain't stickin' your tongue out," Daryl says without even turning around.

Carl freezes, looking over at me. "How…?"

Daryl glances over his shoulder, then gestures to me. "That one. I can always tell when she's doin' it."

He turns back ahead, and I flip him off behind his back. He simply holds up a hand in reply, giving me the bird. "God, that's creepy," Carl remarks. "He's like a mindreader."

"And yet he and Carol still haven't hooked up," I say with a sigh, earning a laugh out of Michonne from behind us. "He ain't a very good one, then."

"Shut the hell up," Daryl says. We continue on for a few minutes in silence, then all pause, looking up, when we hear a man cry for help in the distance. Rick holds up a hand for us to halt, and Carl turns toward his father. "Dad, c'mon," he pleads. Rick does nothing, and the man continues screaming. "C'mon!"

Rick gives the nod, and we take off towards the sound. We arrive to find a black man in his mid-forties on top of a rather large rock, five walkers surrounding it. Carl fires a shot, taking down the walker grabbing onto the man's leg. Rick, Carol, Michonne, and Daryl take care of the remaining four. "We're clear," Rick barks out. "Keep watch." To the man, who's dressed as a priest, he says, "Come on down."

He slides down from the rock, shaking slightly. "You okay?" Rick inquires.

He holds up a hand, as if to say, "Give me a second," then turns and vomits to the side. I raise my eyebrows, not very impressed by him so far. I turn to Carl as this happens, saying, "Why the hell'd you fire? You wasted a bullet."

"You didn't fire," he replies, looking at the crossbow that's still on my shoulder.

"You never waste a bullet unless you have no other option," I tell him. "And never on a damn stranger."

"Sorry," the priest apologizes before Carl or I could continue. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you." He adjusts his suit jacket, looking around at us. "I'm Gabriel."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Rick inquires.

Gabriel chuckles, and I slide my crossbow off my shoulder. "Do I look like I'd have any weapons?"

"We don't give two short and curlies what it looks like," Abraham snaps.

"I have no weapons of any kind," Gabriel states. "The Word of God is the only protection I need."

"Sure didn't look like it," Daryl remarks.

"You've gotta be shittin' me. Is this guy for real?" I ask with a sigh, raising my crossbow. "I don't trust him."

"Clary," Rick snaps. "Lower your bow."

"I called for help," Gabriel explains. "Help came." He looks around nervously. "Do you have any food? Whatever I had left, it just hit the ground."

"Maybe you should have a stronger stomach," I snap, but Carl rests a hand on my arm, silently telling me to cool it. "We have some pecans," he says, holding out a few.

I look into an imaginary camera in the distance.

"Thank you," Gabriel says, taking them. He looks up when he hears Judy cooing, the baby clutching onto Ty's shirt. "That's a beautiful child."

"Thanks for the input," I say. "Where's your camp?"

"I have a church," he replies, slightly excited.

Rick turns and looks back at me. I look at the camera again. Rick orders, "Hold your hands above your head." Gabriel complies, and Rick pats him down as he asks him the questions. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Not any, actually," he says, as if that's a good thing.

"How many people have you killed?"

"None," Gabriel answers.

"Why?"

"Because the Lord abhors violence."

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. How has this man managed to stay alive this long? I open my eyes, realizing that he's not telling us everything. Rick seems to realize it, too, because he asks, "What have you done?"

Gabriel doesn't answer.

"We've all done somethin'," I say.

"I'm a sinner," Gabriel finally says. "I sin almost every day. But those sins, I confess them to God, not strangers."

"You said you had a church?" Michonne inquires.

Gabriel nods, and he inquires, "Would you like me to lead you there?"

Rick looks around at all of us, then says, "Lead the way."

Michonne stays beside Gabriel as he leads up down a path towards his church, as he claims, and Rick drops back beside me. "Hey," he whispers. "You don't believe what he's saying, do you?"

"Which part?" I reply with a scoff. "Just give me the signal, Sheriff. I'll take care of it."

Rick nods once, stepping back up to join Gabriel. "Hey," Rick suddenly says. "Earlier, were you watching us?"

"I keep to myself," Gabriel answers. "Nowadays, people are just as dangerous as the dead, don't you think?"

"No," Daryl says as he glances over at me. "People are worse. The things they do…"

"Well, I wasn't watching you," Gabriel repeats. "I haven't been beyond the stream near my church more than a few times since it all started. That was the furthest I've gone before today." He's quiet for a moment, then says, "Or maybe I'm lying."

I immediately look ahead at Rick, and he glances over his shoulder at me. He shakes his head. _Not yet._

"Maybe I'm lying about everything and there's no church at all," Gabriel says as he walks. "Maybe I'm leading you into a trap so I can steal all your squirrels." He turns when no one says anything, nervously saying, "My flock has told me my sense of humor leaves much to be desired."

"How about now?" I inquire.

"Not yet," Rick answers. Still, we follow Gabriel, and I nearly sigh in relief as I stare at the white building up ahead of us. The Father starts up the steps, but Rick stops him. He follows him up, facing the other man. "Can we take a look around first?" he inquires, but it's an order. "We just want to hold on to our squirrels."

Rick holds his hand up, and Gabriel passes over the key. Our curly haired leader enters first, followed by Michonne, Daryl, Carol, and Glenn. The rest of us stand watch outside, Abraham discussing the short bus he saw out back with Gabriel. I pace the perimeter, crossbow drawn, as I wait for Rick to give the all clear. I stop beside a tree with a marking on it, creasing my eyebrows in confusion. "Gabriel?" I call.

The others turn at the sound of my voice, watching the Father closely as he makes his way over to me. "What the hell's this?" I inquire, gesturing to the 'X' shape on the tree. "You hidin' the X-Men or some shit?"

Gabriel chuckles slightly, and I'm surprised he gets the reference, but his grin fades as he looks at the marking again, shaking his head. "I've never noticed that before. I don't know what that is. I'm sorry."

He turns and walks back to his church, back up the steps, while I step up beside Abraham. "What is it?" he inquires.

"It's a marking," I say, suddenly realizing it.

"Yeah, the tree's marked."

"No, I mean it's a _marking._ As in a tag. This place is tagged."

"Now, hold up, little missy," Abraham says. "Don't be gettin' all worked up over this. It might not mean anything."

"Still," I say. "Be careful. Abe, I think you're right about this one, but you can't be too careful. I don't think it means anything, it's just a carving, but be careful anyways."

Rick steps out of the door, and we know that it's clear. "I spent months here without stepping out the front door," Gabriel says. "If you found someone inside, well, it would've been surprising."

"Thanks for this," Carl says, looking up at the church, then down at Judy. I decide not to mention the marking as we all walk inside, Abraham telling Rick about the short bus he plans to fix up out back. I flop down on one of the pews near Carl, dropping my crossbow to the floor beside me. I stretch out, taking a moment to rest after not sleeping last night. Carl grins down at me, then lays Judy down on my torso. "Hi," I say softly, looking up at her. "Hey, Judy."

She coos at the sound of my voice, looking up. I sit up, trying not to jostle her too much, and put her on my hip as I stand. She yawns, garbling something out that's not really words, and grabs for my hair. "Here," Carl says, brushing it over my shoulder and out of Judy's reach. "She tugs."

"Believe me, I know," I reply. Judy lets out a little fuss that I'm paying more attention to her brother than her, and I turn back to her. "What?" I inquire, my voice a lot softer and quieter than usual. "You're getting tired, aren't you? It's your nap time, isn't it?"

"She's not gonna go to sleep unless you sing," Carl says, taking a seat on the pew, and I shoot a glare at him. "What? You can't blame me for trying. I haven't heard you sing since Glenn and Maggie's wedding."

I close my eyes, remembering how I somehow managed to get roped into a karaoke contest and went with "Bad Reputation." It's been a recurring joke between all of us from the prison since. I look down at Judy, rocking her on my hip as I hum out an old song, trying to remember the words.

" _Hey Jude, don't make it bad  
_ _Take a sad song and make it better  
_ _Remember to let her into your heart  
_ _Then you can start to make it better  
_

 _Hey Jude, don't be afraid  
_ _You were made to go out and get her  
_ _The minute you let her under your skin  
_ _Then you begin to make it better  
_

 _And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain  
_ _Don't carry the world upon your shoulders  
_ _For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool  
_ _By making his world a little colder"_

"Well, I'll be," Abraham says, and I turn, realizing the others were listening as I sang Judy to sleep. I shush them, gesturing to the sleeping infant. Gabriel disappears into one of the rooms, reemerging a moment later with a small bassinet, which he sets on the ground by the altar. I gently lay Judy down in it, trying not to wake her, and lay her blanket over her.

Rick motions Gabriel to the back of the church, near the doors, asking him, "How'd you survive here so long? Where did your supplies come from?"

"Luck," Gabriel answers. "Our annual canned food drive. Things fell apart right after we finished it. It was just me. The food lasted a long time and then I started scavenging. I cleaned out every place nearby except for one."

"What kept you from it?" I inquire, joining them in the back.

"It's overrun."

"How many?"

"A dozen or so. Maybe more."

I glance around at the others, then at Rick. "We've faced worse. I'd say take four, five and go to this place. Another group of three or four look around the rest of town. The rest stay back, take stock of what we have, what we need. Help Abe fix the bus."

"Bob and I'll go," Sasha volunteers. "Tyreese should stay here. Help keep Judith safe."

"That'll be okay?" Rick inquires, and Ty nods. He says, "You ever need me to watch her, need anything for her, I'm right here."

"I'm grateful for it," Rick says. "And everything else." He looks down at his daughter. "She'll be out for a little while."

"I'll draw you a map," Gabriel says, and Rick immediately stops him. "No. You're coming with us."

"I'm not gonna be of any help. You saw me. I'm no good around those things."

"You're still coming with us."

"I-I—"

"Would be happy to show us?" I finish as Carl tosses me my crossbow. "That's great. We leave in ten."

* * *

Michonne joins us as we head for the town, Glenn and I taking Maggie and Tara with us to scavenge for ammo and such. We enter town after walking for about half an hour, my group splitting off to go to the gun store we found in the phone book. "Stay safe," Glenn says to the others.

"You, too," Rick replies, then looks at me again. "Clary, I don't really know if you should be here. You're still not—"

"Rick," I say. "If I didn't think that I could do this, then I wouldn't be here. I'm good."

He nods once, and we head towards the gun store. Maggie and Tara stand watch outside while Glenn and I enter, flashlights raised and weapons drawn. I whistle as we enter, knowing the sound would grab the attention of any walker inside. Glenn looks over at me when we hear the snarling, and we make our way towards it. A single walker is trapped under a fallen shelf, and I easily take it out with my knife. Glenn and I quickly get to work looking for silencers and ammo. He takes the left part of the store, while I take the right. We meet in the middle after our initial search, and we trade sides, checking over to see if the other missed anything. I didn't gather anything from my side, but I do find a handgun, its mag empty, in a desk drawer that Glenn missed. When we meet back up again, turning to leave. About halfway to the door, Glenn, not paying attention, trips over a mop and a stack of boxes. I try not to laugh at him as he gets up, looking at me. "We're gonna say that was a walker," he tells me.

"That, Glenn, dear, is why you're the adorable side-kick and I'm the main character," I say as we head towards the door.

"I'm not adorable," he mutters.

"Yeah, you are," I reply, squeezing through the chained door after him. Maggie and Tara wait for us outside, their guns raised. Tara inquires, "Was it a walker?"

"Uh, yeah," Glenn replies, and I stand behind him, trying my damndest not to laugh. "It was a walker."

"Really?" Maggie questions, noticing how I'm struggling to keep it together.

"It was a stack of boxes and a mop and I tripped," Glenn admits. Tara laughs as Maggie grins, and I finally crack, laughing with them. "Question for you two," I say, and the girls nod me on. "Does he not have the makings of an adorable, fan favorite sidekick?"

"Definitely," Tara immediately answers, and Maggie nods.

"No, I don't," Glenn argues, but it's futile. "Still, I got what we came for." He pulls three silencers out of his back pocket. "Three silencers, stashed in a mini fridge."

"You actually found something?" Tara asks, wide eyed.

"And I got a gun," I say, revealing the weapon. "It's not loaded, but it's nice. It's a .22. We have ammo for that. Hardly anyone uses .22s. Found it in a desk."

"Rule number one of scavenging," Glenn says. "There's nothing left in this world that isn't hidden."

"I thought it was cardio," I say as we start away from the store, looking for any other places to loot.

Glenn considers it for a minute. "Rule thirty-four. There's nothing left in this world that isn't hidden."

"I thought there were thirty-two," Tara says.

"Rule thirty-three is fuck the rules."

"Glenn Rhee!" I cry. "I have never heard you cuss like that! And by the way, it's Swiss Army Knife."

"All I remember is thirty-two and eight." Glenn looks over at me. "I've been following eight since the beginning."

"Aww," Tara says.

"What's eight?" Maggie inquires.

"Get a kickass partner," I answer, smiling softly. Glenn grins, seeing that he made me smile, as Maggie echoes Tara. We enter a few other stores, but we find nothing, so we start back to the church without waiting for the others. We agreed before we left that after we finished, to go ahead back, and the other group would meet us there. We arrive before they do, as I thought we would, and Carl steps away from the side of the church to meet me. "What is it?" I inquire, sensing that something's wrong. "What happened? What's going on?"

"You should see this," Carl answers. "When my dad gets back, we have to show him."

I follow Carl to the side of the church, to a window. "Shit," I mutter, seeing the scratches around the window. "Those are from a knife."

"That's what I thought," he says.

"Hey," Rick calls, and we turn as he walks up. "Tyreese said you were out back. Come on in. We found food. Lots of it."

"Good," Carl says.

"What is it?"

"The scratches," Carl says. "I showed 'em to Clary when she got back."

"They're deep," I explain. "A knife. Nothing else would make a mark like that."

"Someone was trying to get in." Rick and I look at each other, and Carl says, "There's something else, too." We follow him around to the back of the church, and he stops to look at us. "I don't know what happened, but whatever it is, we can handle it."

He gestures to a wooden panel with words carved into it. "It doesn't mean Gabriel's a bad guy for sure," Carl starts.

"It means something," I say, running my fingers over the words. "' _You'll burn for this.'_ "

* * *

How we're all laughing as we eat, while knowing about the threat carved into the church, I don't know. We've opened a few cans, and cooked Daryl's squirrels, making a feast for ourselves with all the food Rick's group found. I sit with Daryl off to the side, watching the others. Rick sits on the floor near the altar, Judy in his lap. He grins as she feeds him, causing the others around him to laugh. We look up as Abraham steps forward, saying, "I'd like to propose a toast."

Daryl and I look at each other, wondering how long it'll be before he mentions Washington. "I look around this room and I see survivors," he says. "Each and every one of you has earned that title. To the survivors."

"Survivors!" Rosita echoes, raising her glass with him. We all mirror her, taking a drink in remembrance of those that didn't make it, but earned the title.

"Is that all you want to be?" Abraham inquires, and Daryl and I look at each other. _Here it comes._ "Wake up in the morning, fight the undead pricks, forage for food, go to sleep at night with two eyes open, rinse and repeat? 'Cause you can do that. I mean, you got the strength. If all of you are anything like Shorty over there" —he gestures to me— "then I know you got the skill."

I look over at Daryl, whispering, "Did he just fucking call me short?"

"Well, you _are_ ," Daryl mutters.

"Asshole."

"Princess."

"Fuck off."

"Thing is," Abraham continues. "For you people, for what you can do, that's just surrender. Now we get Eugene to Washington and he will make the dead die and the living will have this world again. And that is not a bad takeaway for a little road trip." He turns to the scientist. "Eugene, what's in DC?"

"Infrastructure constructed to withstand pandemics even of this fubar magnitude," Eugene answers.

"Eugene," I say. "I'm no idiot, but do us all a favor and speak English."

"Food, fuel, refuge," Eugene simplifies. "Restart."

Abraham smiles. "However this plays out, however long it takes for the reset button to kick in, you can be safe there. Safer than you've been since this whole thing started. Come with us." He looks at Rick holding his daughter. "Save the world for that little one." He turns to Daryl. "For your sister. Save it for yourselves. Save it for the people out there who don't got nothing left to do except survive."

We're all silent, and Judy garbles something. Rick looks down at her. "What was that?" He looks up at Abraham. "I think she knows what I'm about to say. She in. If she's in, I'm in. We're in."

The group laughs, Tyreese applauding Rick's decision. Daryl and I look at each other, and I find myself wondering how in the hell we're gonna be able to readjust to a world without the dead after fighting against them for about a year and a half. Everyone goes back to chatting, and Daryl elbows my arm. I look at him as he turns away from the door, and he whispers, "C'mon."

I get up, stopping a quick second to kiss Carl. "Where you going?" he inquires.

"Gonna take a smoke," I immediately lie, then follow Daryl outside. I don't question him as he leads the way through the woods, the only light being the moon, and I draw my knife when I hear a walker snarling just ahead. I lower it when I hear it stop, realizing that someone killed it. I follow Daryl out of the woods to see Carol standing over the walker's body. "What're you doin'?" he inquires.

"I don't know," she answers.

"C'mon," Daryl says, turning slightly back towards the woods. We all look towards the road as we hear the sound of a car, expecting an unfriendly. We duck behind a car on the road as it passes, and Daryl runs out onto the road after it. He takes one look at the car, then runs back to the car, using his crossbow to bust the taillights. "Get your ass in the car," Daryl barks to me.

"What the hell's goin' on?" I ask.

"What're you doing?" Carol adds.

"They got Beth," Daryl answers.

"Shit," I say, and Carol and I rush to get in the car with him. The tires squeal as we take off, leaving the group on a rescue mission that we're ill-equipped and unprepared for. I look back as we drive, away from the others without even saying goodbye.


	4. Hesitate

**_~Daryl~_**

We're silent for most of the drive, constantly following the car with the white cross on the back. Carol inquires, "It was just you and Beth after?"

"Yeah," I answer.

"You save her?"

I shake my head. "She's tough. She saved herself. We were out there for a while. We got cornered, and she got out in front of me and I don't know, she was just gone. I just remember seeing a car pullin' out with a white cross on it."

"Just like that one?"

"Yeah." We drive on, the car jarring as we drive over a walker on the road. "Rick's gonna wonder where we went." I glance down at the console. "Tank's runnin' low."

"We can end this quick," Clary says, leaning up between the seats. "Just run him off the road."

"We're good for a bit," I reply.

"If they're holding her somewhere, we can get it out of the driver."

"If he don't talk, we're back to square one. Right now, we got the advantage. We'll see who they are."

"And if they're a group?"

I glance over at my sister. "We'll see what they can do. And then, we'll do what we gotta do to get her back."

"They're heading north," Carol observes. "I-85."

"Atlanta," Clary guesses, leaning back into her seat. "Looks like we're headin' back into the city."

Just as she guessed, we drive into the city, always staying behind them. They stop at an intersection, and we slow to a stop, watching. "What're they waitin' for?" I ask after a moment.

The car shuts off, and I quickly do the same so we won't be heard. The passenger door opens, and Clary says, "There's two of 'em." We look closer at the man in the moonlight, Clary voicing what we were all thinking. "Is that a cop?"

I look over at Carol as she draws her pistol, then back at Clary when I hear her loading her crossbow. "They might've seen us," she mutters, eyes on the cop.

He disappears down a street, and a moment later, there's thump on the window. We all jump, thinking it was the cop, but turn to find a walker. "First time I've ever been happy to see one of those bastards," Clary says, and Carol and I nod our agreement.

The cop returns, having moved something while he was gone, and he starts back towards the car before he pauses, looking in our direction. "No one fuckin' move," Clary breathes, and we don't.

The cop takes one more look at us, then climbs back in the car. We try to follow, but the engine won't start. "Dammit!" I say. "Tank's tapped. Clary, you're right. They're holed up in the city somewhere." I look around at the walkers that have started to wander towards us. "Aw, shit. We gotta move, find someplace to hole up till sunlight."

"I know a place," Carol offers. "Just a couple of blocks from here. We can make it."

"Then, let's go," Clary says. Carol rolls down the window, stabbing the walker there, and we all climb out, rushing to the place Carol mentioned. The girls keep the walkers at bay as I break the lock off the door, and we rush inside. We do our usual sweep, but the place is empty of walkers. Must've been locked up since the beginning, as the only dead thing here is a corpse, and not a walking one. I take the keys from it, following the girls into the office section. "You used to work here or something?" I inquire.

"Something," Carol answers, and we slide a desk to block a door should anyone, or anything, try to get in. I hand her the set of keys I picked up from the corpse as she tries to open a door, and Clary and I follow her down the hall. We look around that the lounges, the bathrooms, and bedrooms. "What is this place?" Clary inquires as we follow Carol into a room with a set of bunk beds.

"It's temporary housing," Carol answers. Clary scoffs at something, and I follow her gaze to a book titled " _Treating Survivors of Child Abuse."_ I look up at Carol, asking, "You came here?"

"We didn't stay," she replies. We remove our weapons, sitting them around on the floor, and I chuckle at Clary's yawning. "Shut up," Clary says.

"Clary, do you want the top or bottom?" Carol inquires. Clary answers by kicking off her boots and hoisting herself up onto the top bunk. "Well, that settles that. Daryl, you should sleep. I'll take the first watch."

"This place is locked up pretty tight," I reply, watching as she walks over to the window.

"I know."

"Then we're good."

"I'll keep first watch," Carol repeats, turning to look at me. "I don't mind."

"One of y'all, make up your damn mind," Clary says from the top bunk, not even bothering to open her eyes. I shrug my jacket off, laying it over her. I smile softly as she leans into it, her hand curling around the collar as if she's afraid that someone's going to take it. "Get some sleep, Clars," I whisper, brushing her hair out of her face.

She mumbles something unintelligible in reply, and I take a seat on the bottom bunk. I look over to find Carol watching, and I inquire, "What?"

"You're good with her," she replies. "I mean, she'll let you take care of her when she won't let the others. She trusts you. It's a way that different from the way she trusts the group." She looks out the window, then back at me. "You said we get to start over."

"Yeah."

"Did you?"

"I'm tryin'." I look down at my hands as Carol looks out the window again. "Why don't you say what's really on your mind?"

"I don't think we get to save people anymore," Carol says after a moment.

"Then why are you here?" I ask.

"I'm trying."

I watch her as she comes over, sitting beside me and leaning back on the bunk. I'm hesitant, not really wanting to know the answer, but I still ask, "When we were out by the car, what if I―we didn't show up?"

"I still don't know," she replies. I lean back beside her, looking up at the bunk above us. We both sit up when there's a banging in the distance, grabbing our weapons. Clary opens her eyes, pushing herself up on her elbow. "What's goin' on?"

"Go back to sleep," I tell her. "Just a walker. We got it."

She nods once, laying back down, and I lead the way out of the room, down the halls until we come to the source of the sound. A walker that was trapped in a room is banging on the door, and a smaller one appears beside it. I lower my crossbow, knowing that they won't get out. Carol starts forward, knife raised, but I put a hand on her arm, holding her back. She turns to look at me, and I say, "You don't have to." She starts for the door handle again, but I put my hand on hers, repeating, "You don't."

Carol turns and walks away, back to the room. I follow her after a moment, sitting down to take watch as she lays on the bottom bunk, trying to get some sleep. I wait for a long time, wanting to know that they're both asleep before I get up, making sure I'm a distance away from the room before I turn on the flashlight. I hold it between my teeth as I draw my knife, preparing to open the door with the walkers behind it. I quickly and easily take them out. By now, the sun has started to rise, and I wrap the two bodies in sheets before carrying the first body out the door and onto a roof, resting it in the center away from anything. I set it on fire, waiting to make sure that it has caught before turning back for the other body. I pause in the hall when I see Clary, trying to drag the body out towards the roof door. "Here," I tell her, stepping forward to take it.

"I got it," she snaps, then drops to the ground, sitting with the walker's body against hers. I kneel beside her, picking up the body, ignoring her glare. "You're still healin', Clars," I say, looking up at her. "I've got it."

She stands with me, holding the door open as I carry the body out onto the roof. I drop it onto the fire beside the other one, turning as I hear the door open again. Carol wanders out, looking down at the fire as she steps up beside me. "Thank you," she says softly.

I nod once, and the three of us stand back, watching the smoke billow into the sky in silence.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Daryl leads the way along, Carol in the rear, ready to cover us from behind. We stop at a corner, looking up at a tall building across the street. However, we can't get to it due to the walkers in the street. "We can get up there," Daryl reports after looking around the corner. "There's a bridge."

He kneels, pulling a tablet he took from temporary housing out of a bag, and he looks up at me. "Got your lighter?"

I dig in my bag for my Zippo, spotting the Ace of Spades design on it at the bottom of the bag. I hand it over to him, and he lights the tablet on fire before throwing it across the street, knowing the flames will attract the undead. We duck into a parking garage, my brother taking out the walker inside, and we follow him until we reach the skybridge. Inside, we come across what had once been a camp. About four walkers are trapped in sleeping bags, more inside the three tents. We easily take the ones in the sleeping bags out, leaving the ones in the tents alive. I look down at them, noticing the bloodied holes in the bags. "They were shot," I say after a moment.

Daryl gets up after looking for any supplies on one of the walkers, saying, "Some days, I don't know what the hell to think."

At the end of the skybridge, the doors are chained together, but there's still a gap wide enough that we should all be able to squeeze through. "I'll go first," I say, pulling my bag and crossbow off my shoulder. "I'm the smallest."

I push my bag and crossbow through first, easily fitting through. Carol follows suit, pushing her bag and rifle towards me as I get to my feet. Daryl follows, wiggling to get through. "Good thing we skipped breakfast," he remarks, getting to his feet.

"Fat ass," I mutter, and I stick out my tongue at him when he flips me off. I lead the way through the building, up to the highest floor and into one of the offices. Carol walks over to a window while I look around, Daryl following her a moment later. "How did we get here?" she inquires, and I join them, looking out at the ruined city.

"Don't know," Daryl says with a shrug. "We just did."

"You still haven't asked me what happened. After I met up with Tyreese, the girls."

"Yeah, I know what happened. They ain't here."

"It was worse than that."

I look over at her, wondering what happened, but knowing better than to ask. I take a step back as Daryl looks at her, telling her, "The reason I said we get to start over… is because we gotta. The way it was."

"Yeah."

Daryl leans toward the window, and Carol asks, "You see something?"

"I don't know," he replies. "Hand me that rifle."

She passes it over, and he looks out at something through the scope. He pulls back after a moment, giving the weapon back to Carol, and pointing at it through the window. "Right there."

She follows his gaze, saying, "It's been there a while."

"What is it?" I inquire. Carol passes the rifle over to me, and I look through the scope to see a van, white crosses on the back, on the bridge. "Definitely one of 'em."

"It's definitely some kind of lead," Daryl says.

"'Some kind of lead?'" I echo with a scoff. "Jesus, I was jokin' when I called you Sherlock."

Daryl scoffs. "You forgetting your damn theory 'bout how Randall escaped?"

I look at him for a moment, then give. "Damn," I sigh. "I can't argue with that."

"We should fill up," Carol says, pulling out the canteen and heading towards the water dispenser. "What is it?" she asks, watching my brother as he looks at a painting.

"I bet this cost some rich prick a lot of money," he says. I take the canteen as she passes it over to me, taking a drink as Daryl says, "It looks like a dog sat in paint, and wiped its ass all over the place."

I nearly choke on the water, trying not to laugh at his statement. Christ, I knew Daryl wasn't much for art or subtly, neither am I, but _dammit_ , I wasn't expecting that. I hand the canteen over to Daryl, coughing to clear my airway. "Fuck dammit, Daryl," I say.

"Really?" Carol inquires. "I kinda like it."

He looks over at her. "Stop."

"I'm serious. You don't know me."

"Yep," he replies as she picks up her stuff. "You keep telling yourself that."

We head back down to the skybridge, and I take our bags, pushing them through first. I push my crossbow and Carol's rifle through before I start through, and crawl over towards them. I look up, then freeze, my breath caught in my throat, as I stare down the barrel of Carol's rifle. I'm too much in shock to warn them, and Carol follows me through. She sees what's going on and immediately says, "Daryl, don't!"

However, my brother is already mostly through, and the thief steps back, aiming the rifle at all of us. "Get up," he says. "Hands up, both of you."

Carol and I get to our feet, and I study the thief. He's young, probably about Beth's age, maybe a year or two older. His dark eyes are wide, and I notice, studying his dark face, that he seems almost scared. His voice is steady, but his expression gives him away. "Lay down your crossbow," he repeats.

"You got some sack on you," Daryl remarks.

"Look, nobody has to get hurt. I just need weapons, that's all. So, please, lay down your crossbow."

When the rifle shifts towards me, Daryl immediately gives in. He lays his crossbow down next to mine, and the thief barks at us to back up as he kneels, keeping the gun trained on us, as he steals our weapons. "Sorry about this," he says.

"You're gonna be," I tell him, flipping out my switchblade. It makes a hell of a good bluff, but I'm not dumb enough to attack him. However, he backs up.

"You look tough," he remarks, pulling out his own knife. "You'll be alright."

He slices the material on the tents as he steps away, siccing the walkers on us. Daryl stabs the first walker, and Carol draws her gun, firing at the second. I look over at her, about ready to give her hell for firing and wasting a bullet, then notice her aiming her gun at the kid. Daryl acts fast, pushing her hand down, forcing her to fire into the ground. She looks at him, and I push past, taking off for the door and after him. I try to push on the door, but chains rattle. He locked it, locked us in. " _Goddammit!"_ I shout, punching the door, then looking at the two before me. "I'm sorry. If I hadn't froze, he wouldn't've taken our weapons."

"It's not your fault," Daryl says. "You weren't expecting it. C'mon. We gotta find another way out."

We head back to the other door, going down now instead of up. We step onto a completely empty floor, Daryl in the lead as we search for a way out. "Three bullets," Carol says. "We're in the middle of the city. He was stealing our weapons. All we have are three bullets."

"Three, huh?" I say solemnly, looking over at her. "Save 'em. For as long as we can."

"We're gonna get out," Daryl snaps. "Don't talk like that."

"Did you think I was gonna kill him?" Carol questions, and Daryl choses not to answer. "I was aiming for his leg. Could that have killed him? I don't know, maybe. But he was stealing our weapons."

"He's just a damn kid," Daryl snaps, trying to pry open a door with his knife.

"Without weapons, we could die. Beth could die. _Clary_ could die."

"We'll find more weapons."

"I don't want you to die. I don't want Beth to die. I don't want anyone in our group, anyone back at the church, to die, but I can't stand around and watch it happen, either. I can't. That's why I left. I just had to be somewhere else."

Daryl turns to look at her now. "You ain't somewhere else. You're right here. Tryin'."

"Look, you're not who you were and neither am I. I don't know if I believe in God anymore or heaven, but if I'm going to hell, then I'm making damn sure I'm holding it off as long as I can."

"Stop!" I bark. "Stop fuckin' fightin', for Christ's sake! Don't say you ain't, 'cause I ain't stupid. It's my fault we're in this shithole of a mess! Don't tell me it ain't. I froze back there. I don't know what the hell came over me. I don't freeze up in a crisis. But I did. and now we're fuckin' stuck in the middle of the goddamn city with just enough bullets to take us all out."

I pull the food in my bag out, tossing it towards them, leaving only a water bottle inside. I turn and walk away, running my hands through my hair. "Clary!" Daryl calls after me.

I turn back towards them, telling them, "Go. Take it. I'm an outcast. Carol saved our asses, but what have I done? I don't belong in the group anymore. I had a chance to leave, I've had so many chances to leave, but I hesitated." My voice breaks, showing my emotion. "I hesitated, and I went back, just to fucking get stabbed in the back! I'm not one of you. That's been made clear enough. But damn, I still follow him. I still take orders from him. Why? 'Cause that's what a good soldier does, and that's how he sees me." I gesture to the food. "Take it and go, please. I'm done." I turn, then pause, looking at them over my shoulder. At how Carol's frozen in shock, Daryl nearly in tears. "And hey, say goodbye to Carl for me? And tell him, this time, it's for good."

* * *

"This place has a real good view," I mutter to myself around the USA Gold dangling from my lips, its package resting against my leg as I sit on the windowsill. It's probably been about two hours since I walked away, and I found this place a few blocks away, taking a while to sit and study the city. It's relatively walker free, on this floor anyway, and I sit and relax. I'm on my own now, contemplating my next move. I almost consider continuing the mission, finding Beth, but if I would, then I'd be forced to return to the group.

I reach down to my bag sitting beside me, pulling out the wallet that I've kept since the prison. After I quoted Armin, Glenn thought that he'd be funny and get me an _Attack on Titan_ wallet, but I've kept it all this time. I flip it open, and while I obviously don't keep money in it, I did stick my two pictures in it. I ignore the first one, instead pulling out the one of Daryl and Sebastian making a human pyramid, Sam on top of them while I sat on his back.

"I'm sorry, Sammy," I whisper, trying to ignore Daryl's smiling face in the bottom. A time when he used to smile, before the world hardened him, took any happiness he had away. "I'm sorry. I can't keep promises, Sam. You had to learn that the hard way. I can't protect what I love." I lean my head back against the wall, flicking my eyes down to Daryl. "That's why I left."

I slide the picture back in the wallet, putting out my cigarette as I do so. I flip it closed, bringing it to my lips and kissing it as if it'll somehow bring me luck. I pull it away, and immediately glare at it as I hear gunfire from the floor above me. "You piece of shit."

I shove my wallet in my bag, slinging it on my shoulder as I pull my switch out of my pocket and run for the stairs. I arrive to find a woman on her knees beside a dead walker, pulling a bag towards her. "Carol?" I ask after a moment.

She looks up at me, and I rush over to her when I see the scratches on her face. I drop to my knees beside her, pushing her hair back to look at them. "What the hell happened?" I demand.

"It's a long story," she says. "But Daryl and I fell off a bridge."

I look at her. "I leave you alone for two hours and you fall off a fucking bridge?"

"Let's go," she says. I help her to her feet, and we start down a hall. We arrive to see Daryl tackle the same kid that took our weapons into a bookshelf, rolling away as it falls. The thief is pinned under it, but Daryl rolls to the side. He gets to his feet, picking up the carton of cigarettes by the thief and pulling a pack out. "Please," he begs. "I had to protect myself."

"And I had to protect my sister!" Daryl barks. "Why you followin' us!"

"Hey, kemosabe," I say. "Got a cancer stick?"

Daryl turns, and I finally see the old spark of life in his eyes as he tosses me a package. He looks down at the teenager as he passes Carol her rifle. "Why you followin' us?" he repeats.

"I didn't, I swear!" he cries. "I thought you followed me!"

"Bullshit," I snap.

"Please," the teen begs as Daryl pulls out a cigarette from his pack.

"Nah," he says, still ignoring the snarling walker at the slightly open door. "I already helped you once. It ain't happenin' again." He lights his cigarette, looking down at the teenager. "Have fun with Hoss over there."

I turn to walk away with Daryl as he goes to leave, ignoring the desperate cries from the teenager. "Daryl!" Carol calls after us. "Daryl, stop!"

I look down at the teen in pity, at how scared he is, as Daryl turns to Carol. "You almost died 'cause of him!" he cries.

"But I didn't!"

Daryl looks like he's almost going to consider it. "Nah, let him be."

He turns and walks off, the kid still crying for help and begging for our forgiveness after him. I turn as the walker squeezes out the door, falling on the bookshelf on top of him. I flip out my blade as Carol reaches for hers. I step over, my blade just sliding into the decaying head as Daryl's bolt pierces it. I pull the walker off and the bolt out, tossing it to Carol as my brother lifts the bookshelf. I give the kid a hand sliding out, and he does not stop thanking us the entire time. He scrambles to his feet, limping towards the window, as Daryl asks Carol, "You okay?"

"I'm still here," she replies.

"Dude, that's my line," I say, and she smiles softly. I turn towards him. "Hey, kid. What's your name?"

"Noah," he answers. "I gotta go. I gotta go. They're gonna be coming. They're gonna find me. They probably heard the shot."

"Who?"

"Them, the people at the hospital."

As he turns to run, Daryl stops him. "Whoa, whoa, wait! Just tell us! Is there a blonde girl there? You seen a blonde girl?"

"Beth?" Noah inquires. "You know her?"

"Holy shit, you know her?" I ask. "What hospital is this?"

"Grady," Noah answers. "She helped me get out, but she's still there."

Carol looks out the window and says, "They're coming."

"We gotta go _now_ ," Noah rushes. "We gotta go."

Daryl leads the way to the ground floor, and Noah tells us, "The building next door has a basement. It's clear. We'll be safe."

He limps along as fast as he can, and falls to the ground as we near the front of the building. "Go," Daryl barks. "I got him."

I follow Carol out the front door, pausing a moment to wait for Daryl and Noah before following her. I see it coming, and I'm just about to cry out a warning when the car hits her. "Shit! Carol!" I cry, rushing to her as the car stops. I drop to my knees beside her, crying, "Carol! Carol, please!"

I let out a cry of surprise as I'm pushed aside, elbowing my way free and swinging my crossbow into place on my shoulder as I kneel over Carol. I glare at the two cops before me, not trusting them one bit. One holds a gurney, but damn, even if they're with a hospital, I won't fucking let them near her. It's their fault she's hurt. The one with the gurney drops it, drawing a gun on me, and I shift my aim to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the other draw something that looks like a gun, but when he fires it, I immediately know that it's not. I want to cry out at the electric shock, but I refuse to give them the satisfaction. I drop beside Carol, curling up in a ball as if that'll somehow help. I find myself gasping for breath when it's over, closing my eyes against the pain. I'm unable to do anything as they take Carol, as they take my crossbow and bag. I don't fight back as one of them zip ties my hands together, lifting me up and putting me in the car with them. Sometime on the way to Grady, I give in and pass out.

* * *

I wake when I feel hands on my arm, barely taking a second to look as I push whoever it is to the ground, falling out of the chair I'm in as I do so. I land on top of him, and I press my arm against his throat, keeping him down as I pull out my switchblade. I hear a gun cock near me as I study the forty-something man below me, his eyes wide with fright behind his glasses as he stares at the switch. "Put it down," a woman orders from behind me. "Or I will shoot."

I scan the room, not recognizing anything. I roll off the man who's dressed as a doctor, and scramble back into a corner, holding the blade out in front of me. "Where the hell am I?" I demand.

"It's alright," the woman, who wears a cop uniform, says. "It's alright."

"Then why the hell you pointin' a gun at me? Where the hell am I?"

"You're in Grady Memorial Hospital," the doctor says, getting to his feet beside the officer. "My name is Doctor Steven Edwards. This is Officer Dawn Lerner. She's in charge here."

"Last time I met a doctor, he tried to kill my group," I say. "Last two cops I knew, well, the first tried to kill me. The second one stabbed me in the back. Sorry if I don't trust you."

"How're you feeling?" Edwards inquires.

"I'd be a hell of a lot better if you'd tell me where Beth and Carol are." Dawn and Edwards look at each other, and I tense. I don't like that they're looking at each other like that. "Where are they?"

"Beth?" Dawn calls out, and I look up as the door opens, the blonde stepping through.

"What is it?" Beth inquires.

"Oh my god, Beth," I breathe, flipping my blade in as I straighten up. "You're alright."

She turns to look at me, then runs over, enveloping me in a tight hug. I hug her back, still looking at Dawn and Edwards over her shoulder. "You're here," I repeat.

Beth pulls me behind her out into the hall, her hands on my shoulders as she looks down at me. "I can't believe you're here," she says."

"I know. I haven't seen you all season," I reply.

She laughs softly. "That's what it feels like, doesn't it? I'm fine, Clary. But how are you here? I thought Rick kicked you out."

"You know me, Bethie. I don't do what I'm told." She rolls her eyes at the nickname, and I grow serious as I say, "Carol?"

"She's here," Beth tells me. "I think she'll be okay. Are you okay? You were out when they brought you in."

I rub my arm, wincing slightly as my fingers brush over the marks left by the tasers. I nod, though. "I'm okay. Where is she?"

Beth gestures down the hall, and I follow her in silence. She turns to look at me as we near a room, asking, "Is Daryl okay? They said I was alone when they found me."

"He's okay," I tell her. "Noah's probably got his hands full, dealing with him after what happened."

Beth's eyes widen, then she grabs my wrist, pulling me into Carol's room and shutting the door behind us. "Noah?" she questions. "He's with you?"

I nod once. "Daryl's gonna get you two out, but I need to get out now. You mind tellin' me how Noah got out?"

"You're not thinking of getting out the same way, are you? It's dangerous."

"On a scale of one to Australia, how dangerous are we talkin'?" She gives me a look of confusion, and I flash her a grin. "Honey, I live for the danger."

* * *

We keep our footsteps quiet as we walk down a hall on the sixth floor, heading towards the open elevator doors. Beth hands me the flashlight as I step up to the door, and I shine it down below. The elevator's roof is busted open, but the cable is still attached. I put my crossbow on my back along with my bag, keeping my stolen gun tucked in the wasteband of my jeans, and look over at Beth. "Good luck," she says.

"I'm gonna need it," I mutter. "Cable looks stable enough."

"Heh, you rhymed," Beth says in an attempt to lighten the situation.

I take a few steps back, knowing I'll probably need a running start to reach the cable. I take off, jumping across the space between the edge of the door and the cable. I nearly slide down it before I get my grip, wrapping my legs around it. I look back at Beth and grin. "See you tomorrow, Blondie," I say. "I've always wanted to do this."

I loosen my hold on the cable, sliding down it like a vertical zip line. I slow to a stop as I reach the top of the elevator, putting my flashlight in my right hand and my switchblade in my left. I drop down on top of the bodies, wrinkling my nose as the strong scent of decay. "Oh, this is nasty," I mutter.

As I step out and into the basement, I shine my flashlight around, searching for any remaining walkers. I count two, both near the door. I whistle, and they turn towards me. I step up to meet the first one, easily taking it down. The other is stumbling over a bit slower, and I sink my knife into its head. I close my switchblade as I step over to the door, sliding it back in my pocket and taking the crossbow off my back. I open the door, switching off the flashlight as I do so. Using the moon to guide my way, I start off towards the dark city. The city once so full of life, that now belongs to the dead.


	5. Hallows

_**~Daryl~**_

We watch from around the corner as Noah runs from the cops, waiting until the two are out of the car before we reveal ourselves. "Put it down, Noah," the female officer says, aiming her gun at him.

"Put the gun down," the man echoes.

Noah does as they say, turning to face them as he puts his gun on the ground. The lady cop orders, "Hands up. Turn around."

He listens, and the other cop steps up to him. Lady Cop keeps her gun on him, saying, "I thought you were smart, Noah. You think we wouldn't hear you?"

The bald cop looks around, then questions, "Where are those rotters you were shooting at?"

We step out towards the cops, guns raised, and Rick whistles to get their attention. Lady Cop and Baldy turn towards us, guns raised in reply, and Rick orders, "Hands."

"What do you want?" Lady Cop demands.

"Whatever this is, we can help," Baldy tells us.

"You do what we say, we don't hurt you," Rick replies. Baldy complies first, and his partner follows. "Put your guns on the ground and kneel."

Tyreese frees Noah of his restraints, while Sasha and I zip tie the cops' hands. "We need to talk," Rick tells them. "There's some water and food if you need it."

Noah picks up the guns as Sasha and I pull the cops to their feet, the male cop asking, "Mind if I ask you something?" Rick steps forward, waiting. "The way you talk, how you carry yourself, were you a cop?" Rick doesn't answer. "Believe it or not, I was, too."

I look at Rick as he looks at his uniform, then at me. Noah steps over to the leader, telling him, "That's Lamson. He'll be down for this. Shepherd, I don't know. But she's smart. They're both good ones."

We all turn as tires squeal, a second car rushing in. We fire at it, but we all miss the driver, and we dive to take cover as the driver fires in reply. Shepherd and Lamson climb in the backseat, and I fire back at him. He drives off, still twining through the buildings, and we take off after him, Rick in the lead. We come to a stop when we see the car stopped, doors open, and then we take in the walkers on the ground. Some are dead, nothing but bone and melted skin, but others are still alive. Near the trailer, we see the two cops, running off. Rick takes off after them, the rest of us following. I slow down as I near the car, thinking that the third cop might still be around. I raise my gun, searching for him. I near the FEMA trailer, throwing open the door, checking to make sure he's not inside.

Just as I step back from it, he appears from around the corner, tackling me to the ground. I kick him back, and he falls into the trailer, as I get to my feet. I throw a punch, which he ducks, and he picks me up by the waist, tackling me to the ground again. I land between two walkers, him on top. He gets his hands around my neck, the walkers near us snarling and snapping their teeth at the close proximity.

I look up, staring into the teeth of a walker, barely inches from my face, as it snaps, trying to bite me. I reach for something to help me, trying to find anything to free me. I have to. I have to get out, to be there for Clary, for Carol and Beth. I can't give up. I _won't_ give up, not to this bastard.

I shudder inside as I stick my fingers through a walker's eyes, but it's not the grossest thing I've done. I pull off its head, whacking the cop in the head with the skull. He topples off of me as the other walker suddenly stops moving, the crack of the gunshot echoing. I scramble to my feet as the cop says, "Shoot me, you little bitch."

Clary lowers her gun slightly, looking at him closely. Then, she kicks him. In the face, too. The cop looks up at her in surprise, and she kicks him in the stomach. She brings her knee up, directly in his face, and I wince at it. I watch as she repeatedly kicks him, showing no mercy. Her face is eerily calm, but I don't miss the deadly fire in her eyes. She slams his face into the asphalt, and I wonder how long it's going to be before he loses consciousness. "It's just my personal opinion, but pain is the best tool for discipline," she says, keeping her foot on top of his head. "Look at you. Sent out here to do the dirty work. You've fallen low enough that you're easy to kick around, anyway."

Clary moves her foot, and when the cop starts to lift his head up, she kicks him yet again. Every time he tries to straighten up, she kicks him, and he doubles back over. The walkers melted to the pavement around us growl at the scent of his blood. Eventually, when he's almost too tired to sit up on his own, she pushes him up, her foot on his face. "Cheyenne!" I bark. "That's enough!"

" _Nanda?"_ she inquires, turning to me and removing her foot from his face.

"I said, that's enough!" I repeat. She kicks him one last time. "'Sides, three cops are better than two."

She smirks slightly, looking down at the cop below her. "Today's your lucky day, pig," Clary says. "Get on your feet."

He looks up at her, and she pulls him to his feet, twisting his arm behind his back. He cries out, and she barks, "Move it!"

I follow them into the parking garage, and the other cops gasp when they see their comrade, his face bloodied, nose still gushing. Clary shoves him to the ground in front of his comrades, standing over him as she snarls, "Touch my brother again, you son of a bitch, and I won't stop."

With that, Clary turns and walks away, up onto the roof. The others stare at the cop, then look up at me. We're all quiet for a long time, the cop trying to stop his bleeding nose, and eventually, Rick asks, "She did that?"

"Pain is the best tool for discipline," I repeat. "Yeah. She beat the shit out of him."

"Holy shit," Sasha remarks. "Why?"

"He nearly killed me," I answer. I glance upwards, in the direction of the roof, where Clary is. "I got her."

Without waiting for a response from the others, I climb up to the roof, joining Clary at the edge. I stand on the roof with my sister, looking out over Atlanta. We watch for any more cops from Grady, or walkers. "Thanks," I say. "Thanks for killing that other walker."

"I was aiming for Licari."

I turn to look at Clary, shocked. She stares out at the ruined city, her expression cold. "If you hadn't knocked him off of you, he'd be dead. I would've killed him. I wouldn't've hesitated. I _won't_ hesitate. I don't care if every walker in the city hears it."

I freeze at Clary's words. It's the same thing that Rick said to me when I aimed my crossbow at T-Dog, on that rooftop where Merle was left. I immediately felt guilty for that when I learned that T-Dog died trying to lead my sister and Carol to safety, and I still feel guilty for it.

"If he proves to be more of a danger than an asset, if he threatens any of us again, I'll do it myself. I'll put a bullet through his head. I was ready to before."

"Stop!" I bark, so suddenly and fiercely that Clary jumps back about a foot. "Stop it, Clary. This ain't you. You don't have to be this–this mature. Let someone else shoulder the responsibility. Let them worry about this shit. You're still a kid. Don't forget it."

"No," Clary said, looking at me. "There ain't no kids 'nymore. There's just the innocent and the guilty. The ones that've killed and the ones that haven't. And I don't mean the walkers." She turns to leave, but stops and looks over her shoulder at me. "Thanks for tryin'. And listen to your own words. It's my turn to protect you."

Before Clary can go, I run forward and wrap my arms around her in a bear hug so she can't go anywhere. "It's always my job to protect you. I did a pretty shitty job of it for a while there, especially after we lost the prison. I was too busy gettin' my ass kicked to protect you. I could've handled those guys, I know it. Instead it was up to Michonne." I lean down, resting my forehead on her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Cheyenne."

She's silent, and I know exactly why. She refuses to speak about the night before we reached Terminus. The night that the group that I was with found Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Clary. Only it wasn't a happy reunion. Joe's group wanted to kill Rick, so I tried to stop them. Two of the guys in the group beat me, while another two held Rick and Michonne at gunpoint, Joe's gun on Rick. A fifth guy in the group pulled Carl out of the truck, and tried to rape him. Clary tried to fight back against the two beating me, but it only resulted in one of them trying to rape her. In this world, you forget about what people used to do. You forget that they still do it. You're too busy trying to stay alive to think about it.

We stand on the rooftop in silence for a while, my arms tight around my sister. She pulls away after a few moments, and leans down to pick up her crossbow. "C'mon, let's go get our people back," she says, her voice steady and unwavering.

"Yeah," I say quietly, my voice the exact opposite of hers. I watch as Clary turns and walks down from the rooftop, gun and knife on her hip and crossbow over her shoulder. Clary's heading down a dark road, and I'm making it my mission to get her off of it. I fear that if she continues down this path, she'll wind up like Shane, or worse.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Daryl follows me as we walk back down with the others, where Licari and Shepherd are, Sasha and Tyreese with them. The cop that I beat, Licari, doesn't look at me, while Shepherd stares me head on. "Your friend," she says. "What's his name? I need to talk to him. Your plan is going to get me and my friends killed."

"We're gonna make it work," Sasha says, confident in Rick's plan.

"It would work if you had different cops to trade," Shepherd says. "Dawn's running Grady into the ground. A bunch of us want her out and she knows it. Pretty sure she knows we want Lamson to replace her, too."

"Dawn doesn't know that," Licari says around his fat lip, looking over at the lady cop.

"She might. And she's smart. So there's a good chance you can't make this deal work and that'll leave us all dead. But if you let us go, we'll take care of Dawn ourselves and then we'll let your friends go and this is over."

"No," Lamson says, getting to his feet from his spot on the floor. "We're not gonna do that."

"Do you want to die?"

"No. I just need you to shut up right now." He looks up at us. "You can make this work. But you've gotta be able to talk to her."

"Noah told us all about her," Sasha says.

"I've met her," I input. "She won't wanna talk."

"I've known her for eight years, ma'am," Lamson says, looking between Sasha and I. "I know this woman. And my only interest is peaceful resolution, not dying, and sleeping in my bed tonight. So, please, let me help you. Please."

I shift on my feet, taking a small step back, and studying the three cops before me. I think I've finally got a read on them all, after meeting Licari and Shepherd at the hospital and hearing them speak, seeing what they can do, and watching Lamson's actions. Licari, he's like Tyreese. He's the muscle, but he doesn't want to hurt anyone unless it's necessary. That thing with Daryl, it was like when Rick snapped on Ty back at the prison. It wasn't who he was, but he still tried to beat the shit out of him. Shepherd, she'd make a real good leader. Her way with words, her clear intentions. I like her. Lamson, on the other hand, is the most difficult. He wants what's best for himself, and if it good for the others, too, well, that's great. But if it isn't, then, oh well. He's a Judas, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He only cares for himself, his own well being. He's gonna turn on us. It's just a matter of time.

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

It was Tyreese that found his sister, lying on the ground, head bleeding, Lamson gone. He calls for help, and I take one look at the scene before taking off after the cop, Clary right behind me. We duck around walkers, not wanting to waste precious seconds on them. I stop by the Atlanta PD car, climbing in the open driver's seat. Clary slides across the hood like Bo Duke, then climbing in through the window. She's still sliding in when I take off after him, and she drops down beside me, immediately grabbing the microphone for the PA system. "Stop," she orders through it. "Stop right now. Lamson, stop fuckin' runnin'."

I take it from her, speaking into it now. "We won't ask again, Lamson."

He keeps on running. I press down on the gas pedal, and Clary braces herself as we hit him. He goes down, a few feet in front of us. I stop the car, and Clary and I look at each other. "If he can move, I'm gonna stomp his ass," she growls.

"And if he can't?" I question as I hear him asking us for help.

"One of us'll shoot him. A hurt hostage ain't a good trade."

We climb out of the car as I point out, "You beat the shit out of Licari."

"I had a damn good reason," she replies, drawing her gun as we step up to Lamson.

"Help me," he begs. "You crazy son of a bitch. I think you… I think you broke my back."

"Didn't have to be like this," I tell him, looking down at him. "You just had to stop."

"I couldn't. I don't know you. But I think… I'm getting an idea."

I crouch down beside him. "You just had to stop."

"Take me back. Take me back to the hospital." I stand as I hear Clary's steps depart, the growling of the walkers closest to us stopping. "I did it for your friend."

"Not after this, no," I say as Clary returns. "Can't go back, Bob."

"Rick," she says. "Hurry this shit up. We're gonna be surrounded."

"You've been out here too long," Lamson says, staring up at us. "You both have." I draw my gun now, aiming it at him. "You'll die. You'll all—"

I fire, cutting him off. "Shut up."

"Normally, Officer Dumbass, you tell people to shut up before you kill them," Clary deadpans. I look over at her, tucking my gun back into its holster. "Let's go."

We drive back to the others, and along the way, Clary inquires, "We gonna lie to 'em?"

"'Bout what?" I ask in reply.

"Lamson. We gonna say he broke free, attacked us, too?" I glance over at her. I wonder how it's gotten to the point where she has become like a child soldier, and how she's willing to lie for our group's gain. Then, I realize that she learned it from me. Lie to the enemy, even to our group, for the good of the group. "You want me to say I took him out?"

"Something changed," I say after a moment. "And no, we're not gonna do any of that. We're gonna tell 'em the truth. But something changed in you. Since we first saw the Claimers."

"I realized a few things," she mutters. "When it was just the three of us—Carol, Daryl, and I—I left. I said I was leavin', and I wasn't comin' back."

I look over at her. "But you're here now."

"I'm here now," she echoes as we reach our temporary headquarters. The others turn to look at us as we walk onto our floor, Daryl walking over to join us. "He wouldn't stop," I say as the three of us walk away from the group.

"This change things?" he inquires.

"It has to."

Daryl and Clary share a look, and he says, "Maybe not."

"She said this won't work," I say, gesturing over to Shepherd. "Guy who did is dead. We have to rethink this."

"No," Clary says, shaking her head. "We don't. Shepherd said Dawn, the one in charge, she don't have any love for him. Maybe you did her a favor. Maybe this swings the odds our way."

"I don't know if they'll play ball," I say.

"Let's find out," Daryl suggests. We turn and walk back over to the remaining cops, and as we approach, Shepherd says, "He was a good man." She looks up at us. "He was attacked by rotters. Saw it go down."

"Huh," Clary says with a bit of a smirk. "I like her. You're a damn good liar."

"We're hanging by a thread here. He was attacked by rotters. That's the story."

"You said the trade was a bad idea," Daryl mentions. "What changed?"

"Lamson was our shot. So it's this, or you go in guns blazing, right? You don't want that."

"If this is some bullshit you're spinnin' and things go south—"

"I know. I know the good ones from the bad. Let us help you."

I pause a moment, then look at Licari. "What about you? You want to live? How much?"

"Dawn's afraid she'll look weak in front of us," he says. "Thinks it'll tip things against her. Hell, it will. She'll see this trade as a rip-off if she thinks you took out one of our guys. So it's a good thing Lamson got aced by rotters."

I turn to look at Daryl and Clary, then glance back at Licari's bruising and still bloodied face. "Clary," I say. "Any idea how we're going to explain that?"

She shrugs. "I'll crack my knuckles, say some badass shit. Usually works."

"Alright," I say slowly, turning back to the Dixon siblings, waiting to know their thoughts. Daryl gives a nod, while Clary continues looking at the two cops. "Shepherd," she says, and the lady cop looks up at her. "Do everyone a favor, and when this is over, and Dawn's dead, take charge. You'd make a damn good leader."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Rick and I stand and wait, waiting for Tyreese to tell us over the walkie that the other cops are coming. Eventually, the walkie crackles, and I hear his voice. "They're heading towards the vantage point."

"Okay," Rick says into it. "Copy that."

I take the walkie from him, warning our backup on the roof, "Keep your eyes open. More might be coming."

"Copy that," Tyreese says, and I hand the walkie back to Rick. We turn as the car pulls up, stepping forward with our hands raised. Officers McGinley and Franco step out, their guns raised on us. Rick speaks first. "Officer Franco, Officer McGinley. I'm Rick Grimes. I was a deputy of the Kings County Sheriff's Department. This is Clary Dixon. You probably know her."

"Taze me again and I'll beat your ass into the ground," I threaten.

"Easy, Dixon," Rick says. "We're here to make a proposal."

"Lay your weapon on the ground," Franco orders.

"Alright," he says, kneeling and putting his Python on the ground. I follow, setting my crossbow and gun at my feet. We both turn, letting them see that we have no hidden weapons. McGinley steps forward, then inquires, "What's your proposal?"

"You have two of our people, we have two of yours. We want to make an exchange. Then we'll be on our way. No one gets hurt."

"Who?"

"Shepherd and Licari for Beth and Carol," I answer. I get a look of confusion, as they don't know who I mean by Carol. "The woman you fuckers hit with a car."

Rick sighs. "I apologize for her. Clary is very hostile."

Franco looks towards McGinley, and I don't like that look. As much as I fear the answer, I ask, "Is she still alive?"

"She's still alive," Franco tells me.

"Noah, he's with you?" McGinley inquires. "That's how you know?"

"That, and Clary was there yesterday," Rick answers.

"What about Officer Lamson?"

"He was attacked by the dead before we got to him."

"Where are your people?" Franco inquires.

I look over as I hear snarling, and let out a whistle in case they didn't see the walker, and gesture over to it. A silence bullet finds its way into the walker's head, and it drops. "They're close," I answer, and the officers scan the surrounding rooftops for Sasha and the others. "Radio your lieutenant. We'll wait. And tell her I have no intention of goin' back. When she sees Licari, she'll know not to send anyone else after me."

"Which reminds me," Rick says, glancing over. "How did you escape?"

"Where there's a will, there's a way."

* * *

We march the two cops up the stairs and into the floor where we're supposed to meet Dawn's remaining officers and get Beth and Carol back. We get to the floor, the only thin over than officers separating us being a set of closed doors. Dawn and three of her cops raise their guns as we approach, Dawn speaking to us through the CB's on their uniforms. "Holster your weapons."

We lower our weapons, and Fraco and McGinley open the doors for us. They walk back to Dawn's side, while Beth steps forward, pushing Carol in a wheelchair. Dawn looks the two hostages over, then inquires, "Where's Lamson?"

"The rotters got him," Shepherd answers.

"We saw it go down," Licari adds.

Dawn looks at him. "And what happened to you?"

True to my word, I step forward, cracking my knuckles. "I don't take too kindly to people tryin' to kill my blood."

Dawn's quiet for a moment, then says, "One of yours for one of mine."

Rick gives a nod, then gives Daryl a nod. He moves forward with Licari, and McGinley pushes Carol forward. Daryl helps her out of her wheelchair, his arm around her as they step back to the group. Dawn steps forward with Beth while Rick meets them with Shepherd, trading them off. Rick pulls Beth into a one armed hug, kissing her temple as they start back to us. I smile softly at her, looking up at Carol as she steps back with me. "You good?" I ask her.

"I'll be fine," she says, kissing my forehead.

I turn back ahead as she steps behind me, trusting me to cover her if shit goes down. Dawn says, "I'm glad we could work things out." Rick nods his agreement as we turn to walk away. "Now I just need Noah."

I immediately stop, turning back to face her. I step up beside Rick, hand on my gun. He looks down at me, not yet turning to look at her. I ask, " _¿Qué quiere usted que haga?"_

" _Nada todavía,"_ he replies, in the phrase I taught him for if things went south. I ask what needs to be done, and he answers with either nothing, nothing yet, or take them out. I nod once, showing that I understand. Rick turns to face Dawn, and she tells us, "Give us Noah, and then you can leave."

Rick turns and walks to meet her, and I follow directly behind him as he says, "That wasn't part of the deal."

"Noah was my ward," she says. "Beth took his place, and I'm losing her, so I need him back."

"Ma'am, please," Shepherd starts.

"Shepherd!" Dawn barks, and the officer falls silent. "My officers put their lives on the line to find him. One of them died, another was beaten."

"No, he ain't stayin'," Daryl says as he steps forward, pushing me behind him. I get the message and take a step back towards Carol.

"He's one of mine. You have no claim on him."

"The boy wants to go home, so you have no claim on him," Rick snaps.

"Well, then we don't have a deal."

"The deal is done!" I bark.

"It's okay," Noah tries, stepping forward.

"Noah!" I say, reaching for his arm, and Rick holds out a hand to stop him, saying, "No. No."

Rick turns to look at Noah as he steps up, and the teen says, "I got to do it."

Noah hands over his gun to Rick as Beth says, "It's not okay."

"Beth," I warn her. "Don't get involved."

"I'm already involved," she murmurs, glancing down at me.

"It's settled," Dawn says. Noah steps forward, but Beth cries for him to wait, hurrying forward to hug him. She hugs him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, and he smiles softly at her. "It's okay," he mutters.

"I knew you'd be back," Dawn says smugly. Beth pulls away from Noah, stepping to face Dawn as Noah walks towards Dawn's side. She looks at Dawn, studying her for a moment before she says, "I get it now."

I catch a glimpse of something silver in Beth's hand, and then it all happens so fast. Dawn gasps in pain, a gun goes off, and blood splatters the wall and Rick. It takes a moment for me to realize that it's Dawn's gun and Beth's blood. I stare in shock as Beth's body hits the ground, blood beginning to pool around her head. I see both Rick and Daryl pull out their guns, but it's Daryl that does it. I can only watch as he aims his gun and, without a second thought, fires it. Dawn's head whips back, her blood mixing with Beth's as she hits the ground.

Without hesitating, I run forward and put myself between my brother and the police of Grady. I draw my gun, prepared to kill anyone that tries to shoot him, and wait to take any bullets aimed for him. Even though I can't see it, I know the rest of my people aim their weapons, ready to fight. "Hold your fire!"

Everyone obeys, and it takes me a second to realize that it wasn't one of my people that spoke. It was Shepherd, the female officer that we took as a hostage. "It's over," she says. "It was just about her." No one moves to lower their guns, and Shepherd forcefully commands, "Stand down."

The Grady cops are the first to lower their guns. I lower mine, and my group follows. Behind me, Daryl whimpers, close to tears. It's the one way we're different—he wears his emotions on his sleeves. I turn to him, forcing his right arm down. I guide his hand to the holster, and end up putting his gun away for him. "Hey, look at me," I tell him softly, reaching up to wipe tears off his cheeks. "Look at me, Daryl. Daryl, hey, right here."

He tears his gaze away from Beth's body, looking down at me. "She's gone," he whispers.

"I know," I tell him. "We lost a good person. We've lost good people. People die everyday. Friends, family. Yeah, we lost Beth today, but she's still with us." I put my hand over his heart. "In here. So is Hershel." I look at Carol. "Sophia." I look up at Daryl. "Merle." I turn my attention to both groups. "The rest of them, everyone we've lost. All of them. But they didn't die in vain. They helped us get this far, even if we don't realize it. If _they_ didn't realize it. So we continue to fight, and we keep fightin' 'cause it's easier now. We're used to it. We fight to keep their memory alive. And that is how we honor the fallen."


	6. Stay

**_~Clary~_**

It took us nearly two weeks, but we finally make it to just outside Richmond. I sit in a van with Glenn in the far back, Michonne and Rick sit in the second row, Noah in the passenger seat, Tyreese driving. "How far out?" Rick inquires.

Noah thinks for a moment, then says, "Five miles."

Rick looks over his shoulder at me, then instructs, "Radio Carol. Check the range."

"Yessir," I reply, taking the radio from the seat beside me. "Hey, Carol?"

"I'm here," comes her reply.

"We're halfway there. Rick wanted me to check the range."

"Everybody's holding tight. We've made it five hundred miles. Maybe this can be the easy part."

"Gotta think we're due. Give us twenty minutes to check in."

"We don't hear from you, we'll come looking."

"Copy that."

"And Clary?"

"Yeah?"

"Daryl says to be careful and watch your ass."

"Copy that," I reply, handing the walkie up to Rick. We drive on in silence for a minute, then Noah says, "I've been wanting to tell you something."

Tyreese glances over at him. "What's that?"

"The trade, it was the right play. It worked. It did work. Just… something else happened after."

"It went the way it had to," Ty says. "The way it was always going to."

"It was always gonna end with someone dead," I mutter. "I just didn't want it to be one of ours."

Glenn looks up from the CD he was playing with, gently squeezing my hand as Noah admits, "I never wanted to kill anybody before."

"I've wanted that," Tyreese tells him. "But it just made it so I didn't see anything except what I wanted. I wasn't facing it."

I look down, remembering how Ty was determined to find who killed Karen and put a bullet in their head. Or rather, my head. "Facing what?" Noah inquires.

"What happened, what's going on," Tyreese replies. "My dad always told Sasha and me that it was our duty as citizens of the world to keep up with the news. When I was little and in his car, there were always those stories on the radio. Something happens a thousand miles away or down the block." He sighs. "Some kind of horror I couldn't even wrap my head around. But he didn't change the channel. He didn't turn it off. He just kept listening. To face it. Keeping your eyes open. My dad always called that paying the high cost of living."

"I lost my dad in Atlanta," Noah says, looking over at Ty. "I think he would have liked yours." Tyreese chuckles. "Still got a mom and a couple of twin brothers. I hope."

"I hope so, too," Ty tells him.

"Everythin' that's goin' on in the world," I say, looking up at them. "You only got two options. Close your eyes and pretend it's all a bad dream. Or keep both eyes open and face it. That's how I get by."

"Two more miles," Noah says after a moment.

"Alright," Rick says. "Let's go just a bit further, then pull into the woods. Go on foot. Stay off the road."

"We don't need to," Noah says.

"Just in case."

Tyreese drives for half a mile, then pulls off into the woods. He stops by two other cars, and we all climb out, drawing our weapons. "This is good," Rick says. "Through the trees, it'll look like part of the wreck."

We turn when the walkers inside one of the trucks thump on the window, trying to get out to us. "It's this way," Noah informs us, gesturing behind his back.

We follow him through the woods, Michonne in the lead with him. Up ahead, as we near the community, wire is wrapped around the trees. "Your people do this?" Michonne inquires.

"They wanted to," Noah says. "Must have."

We duck through the complicated system of wire, and I raise my eyebrows at it, impressed. Hell, if a walker got through this, I'd be amazed. "They have spotters?" Rick asks him. "Snipers?"

"We built a perch on a truck," Noah answers. "Sometimes it's out front."

I step forward, still staying in the trees, and scan the community. "Not today," I report. "Let's go."

We draw our weapons, but we don't raise them, as we exit the woods and step out onto the road. Noah bangs on the gate, then glances back at us. "You hear that?" he inquires.

"Just wait," Glenn tells him as I walk over to the wall just beside the gate. "Glenn?" I ask as he follows me. "Give me a boost?"

He kneels down beside me, and I climb on his shoulders. He stands, and I stretch up, looking over the top of the gate. "We're leavin'," I say as I see that it's empty, and Noah scrambles to climb up the other side. "Noah, don't!"

He doesn't listen and climbs over the wall. I push up from Glenn's shoulder, and over the wall, and he follows me over. Tyreese, Rick, and Michonne follow us, and I call after Noah as he starts forward, deeper into Shirewilt. "Noah!" I call. "Hold up!"

He keeps on going on, looking around at the burned houses, at the skeletons in the grass. He takes off, and we chase after him, Rick calling, "Noah!"

He stops when we come to an intersection, dropping to the ground and sobbing. Tyreese kneels by him, trying to comfort him. Telling him that he has a place in our group. Michonne sighs at the walker stumbling towards us from down one road, going to take care of it. Rick kneels beside Noah as I look around, searching for any sign of who did this. "I'm sorry, Noah," he says. "I truly am." He stands. "We should see if there's anything we can use and head back."

"Then what?" Michonne inquires, then turns to the walkers. "They see us."

She walks off, going to execute the walkers, as Glenn says, "We can make a quick sweep."

I spot a sequence of three words spray painted on a wall. _Wolves not far._ Hell, that's a sign if I've ever seen one. "Wolves," I say. "This happened a while ago. I don't think they're around any more."

"I'll stay with him," Tyreese says, and Rick nods once.

"Rick," I say. "Take 'chonne and Glenn, make a sweep. I'll stay with them."

He nods once, pulling the walkie off his belt. "Carol?" he inquires. "You copy?"

"We're here," she replies.

"We made it. It's gone."

* * *

I sit on top of a sign for the community, watching for any walkers or Wolves. I look over at Tyreese as he says, "I wanted to die for what I lost. Who I lost. I stepped out into a crowd of those things just trying to… take it all out on them until they took me. Put them all in front of me so I didn't see anything. But I just kept going. And then, later, I was there for Judith when she needed me. I saved her. I brought her back to her dad. And that wouldn't have happened if I had just given up. If I hadn't chosen to live."

"I tried to kill myself," I say, still staring at the message from the Wolves. I look up at Ty and Noah. "It was early, too. I lost Sam, lost Sophia. Thought I lost Merle, nearly lost Daryl. I had killed. It was before I knew we were all infected. I tried to hang myself in the same barn where we found Carol's daughter, turned into one of them. I was so close, too. I was ready. God, if Daryl had gotten there, maybe five minutes later, he would've found me as one of them. I can't imagine what that would do to him. I'd be dead dozen times over if it weren't for him. He saved me. From myself, from them. From our dad. I couldn't leave him al0ne, leave him behind, so I told him I'd stay. And I ain't thought of leavin' since." I hop down from my perch, walking over and kneeling in front of Noah. "Noah. Look at me."

Slowly, he lifts his head, dark eyes meeting grey-blue ones. "This isn't the end," I tell him, putting my hands on his arms. "It ain't the end." He scoffs, but get to his feet. I stand with him, looking up at him. "There you go."

He steps towards one of the houses down the road, Ty saying, "Hey, we should—"

Noah ignores him, now taking off down the street. "Noah!" Ty calls, immediately taking off after him.

"Oh, dammit," I say, taking off after the two. "Ty!"

I catch up to them, pushing past Ty and tackling Noah to the ground. "Stop, dammit!" I bark down to him. "You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Noah doesn't look at me, just up at the house. "This is my house," he breathes.

"You don't want to go in there," Tyreese says. He pulls me off of Noah, pulling the teen to his feet.

"Yes, I do," Noah says, then turns and heads for the door. Tyreese grabs his arm, stopping him, and the teenager turns to look at us. "Let me see it."

I pull out my switchblade, flipping it open. "If we're goin' in, you're gonna do it my way. Ty and I'll go in first. We'll clear it."

He nods slowly, following behind us as we head for the door. The glass in it is broken in, and Tyreese pounds on the side of the house. The sound should draw any walkers that aren't locked in a room out. When nothing happens, I open the door, stepping over the glass on the floor. In the middle of the living room, a woman's body lays, her head busted open. "I'm sorry, Noah," I say softly as he steps around the couch, staring at his momma.

He kneels beside her, using a blanket to cover her. I stay in the living room with him as Tyreese wanders off, kneeling beside Noah. "I tried to get back sooner," he whispers to her. "I tried. But I did what you told me to."

I stand, noticing that Tyreese isn't back yet. "Ty?" I call softly, stepping away from Noah.

When I get no reply, I turn back to Noah, kneeling in front of him. "Noah," I whisper. "Hey, Noah?" He glances up at me. "Noah, I'm gonna go find Ty, okay? Don't move."

As soon as I hear Ty's scream, I take off, Noah right behind me. I halt, hesitating as I see the walker is a child, and Noah pushes past me. He grabs one of the toy fighter jets off the ceiling and drives it into his brother's brain, having the strength to do what I don't. "Go!" I yell at him, running to Tyreese. "Get the others! Go!"

Noah takes off, and I drop to my knees next to Ty. He holds a hand over his arm to stop the bleeding, but it's useless. I drop my crossbow beside me, shrugging my leather jacket off. I pull off my shirt, seeing that there's no other cloth, and wrap it tightly around Ty's arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding. I put my jacket back on, zipping it up the whole way. I look up at Ty's face, and wish I hadn't. He's already zoning out, and I put my hands on either side of his face, making him look at me. "Hey, hey," I say. "Stay with me, Ty. I need you to stay with me. I'm gonna go check for some bandages, okay? Or at least something to slow the bleeding. Alright? Just hang on. Stay with me, Ty. I'll be right back. I ain't gonna leave you."

I stand, running into the bathroom. I pull open the medicine cabinet, throwing aside thing in frustration as I find everything except for bandages or towels or anything to help with the bleeding. It's the same with the closest in the bathroom. I slam the door shut, running back to Tyreese. "Ty?" I say, trying to get his attention as I kneel back in front of him. "Hey, Ty! I gotta check another house, okay? I can't find nothin' in here. I'll be right back, okay?" I kiss his forehead, close to tears as I feel that his fever is already beginning. "Don't you check out on me, Ty."

I run out of the house and into another, leaping over the debris in the front yard, and killing the walker in the house. I curse as I find nothing in this house, and run out, but I'm forced back by a walker. I stumble back, surprised, and trip. I fall on my back as a walker stumbles towards me. I scramble back, and I curse as I realize I'm on my crossbow. I try to reach for my knife, but the walker falls forward, and I have to put my hands on its shoulders to hold it off. I can't hold it off and reach for my weapon at the same time. I hear footsteps, and call, "Rick!"

A second walker suddenly falls down beside me, and I kick out at it, trying to keep it away. In an attempt to alert the others, I scream, " _GLENN!"_

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

Glenn and I walk down a street, trash bags with supplies inside in our hands, and Michonne walks down a driveway to meet us. "We could put some of the garage doors together against the break," she says, gesturing to the hole in the wall down the road. "Park a car against them until we can brick it back up. It can work."

Since hearing the conversation I had with Glenn regarding Dawn's death, she's been trying to convince me to stop, for us to find a community to live, saying that we've been out here too long. "This place is surrounded by a forest," I tell her. "There's no sight lines. Whoever, whatever, would be on top of us without us even knowing. That's probably what happened here."

"That's what happened to us," Glenn says. "Back at the prison."

Michonne sighs, turning to face us. "We could start taking down the trees. We use them to build the walls up. Just look."

Glenn and I follow her down the street, down to where a section of the wall had collapsed. Michonne steps outside, then stops, looking around at the carnage. At the bottom halves and arms of dozens of bodies. No torsos, no heads. She sighs, turning and studying the wall. "It doesn't matter," Glenn says.

"What?" I inquire, turning to look at him.

"You said you wondered if it mattered if you killed her or not," he elaborates. "It doesn't matter if you had done it, or if I had, or if Clary had, or that Daryl did. It doesn't matter."

"Washington," Michonne suddenly says, turning to face us. "Eugene lied about a cure, but he thought of Washington for a reason."

"But he was _lying_ ," Glenn says.

"About being a scientist, about the cure. But he did the math and realized that Washington was the place where there'd be a chance. We're close." I sigh, and Michonne turns to me. "What if there are people there, huh? What if it's someplace we can be safe? We're a hundred miles away. It's a _possibility._ It's a chance. Instead of just being out here. Instead of just making it! Because right now, this is what making it looks like!" She gestures around to the carnage at our feet. "Don't you want one more day with a chance?"

I glance down, thinking about it, then look back up as I hear the snarling of walkers from the treeline. "We should go," I say.

Michonne turns, sighing, and Glenn starts back into the gated community. "It's a hundred miles away," I add, and they turn to look at me. "We should go to Washington."

Michonne smiles softly, showing her approval. We turn as we hear Noah's shouts of help, and we take off after the sound. Just as we reach him, Glenn stops in his tracks as a scream of his name echoes from down the street. "Clary!" he cries, then looks to me for approval.

"Go!" I bark. "We got Noah!"

He takes off, sprinting up the street. Michonne and I take down the three walkers as quickly as we can, and I pull Noah to his feet afterwards. "You okay?" I ask him.

He nods quickly, then says, "It's Tyreese!"

"Where?"

"My house. He's been bit."

We take off, Noah in the lead. As we run up the front lawn, Glenn and Clary join us. Clary pushes forward, in the lead as she runs into the room where Ty is. She drops to her knees beside him, saying, "Oh god. There's a second bite. We need to do it now!"

She take his hand, holding up his arm for Michonne as she draws her sword. I reach around Clary, kneeling behind her, and help her hold his arm steady, his dark skin slick with crimson blood. His dark eyes drift over Clary, then focus on her. "Hey, Ty, look at me," she says. "I'm right here. I'm stayin' right here."

I bark orders to Michonne as Tyreese, his voice sounding distant, inquires, "You'll stay with me?"

"Until the very end," Clary replies, choking back a sob. Then, she cries, "Now, 'chonne!"

His scream echoes as Michonne swings the blade.

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Glenn and Rick support Ty as we run from the house, towards the gate. "We gotta break the chain!" I call, then hesitate, seeing the walkers on the other side. "Glenn, bat!"

Noah and Glenn trade places, and I bark, "Rick, we're gonna need you!"

I flip out my switchblade, stepping back as I look down at it. It's gonna have to be good enough. Glenn swings the bat, breaking the lock, and Rick barks at us to get ready as he pulls the chain off the door. The walkers flood through all at once, and we immediately get to work. Glenn swings his new bat, Michonne her sword, Rick fires his Python, and I get up close, stabbing them through the head. When we take them all down, Rick and Glenn run back to Ty, who had fell to the ground with Noah.

We struggle to get him through the wires, his foot getting stuck as we're nearly through. "Guys, hurry up," I say, seeing as a walker gets closer.

"Let's go!" Rick barks, but they fall to the ground as soon as we're out of the wires.

"Get his legs!" I bark to them. "Go! Carry him! I'll cover you!" I pull the walkie from Rick's belt as I run past them. "Keys! Gimme the damn keys!"

"Ty has 'em!" Rick barks.

I dig in his pocket as we run, then finally grab them as I see the cars up ahead. I run for the van, scrambling to open the driver's seat and throwing the keys in the switch and turning the car on. I open the door for them, helping them maneuver Ty into the second row. I hold him up as I bark into the walkie, "Carol, we're at the car! We need to cauterize the arm and wrap it! Get Sasha and Carl away!"

The tires spin as Rick tries to back up, and eventually gets it. As we speed down the road, Tyreese leaning against me, he whispers, "Turn it off."

"Ty?" I ask, looking down at him. His gaze shifts out the window, and I know that he's going soon. I lean down, pointing out the window at the trees as I whisper, "Look out there, Ty. It's beautiful, isn't it? Just think, you hang on, and you'll be out there, runnin' 'round, again in no time. Just stay, Ty. C'mon, Ty."

I close my eyes as I see his breathing slow to a stop, tears leaking out of my closed eyes. "Ty," I whisper. "Please, Ty."

I know he's gone, and I open my eyes, looking up at Rick. "Stop the car."

"We're almost there!" he cries.

"Stop the car, Rick!" I bark. "He's gone!" My voice breaks as I say, "He's gone."

Rick stops the van, and we all climb out. Glenn climbs over the seat, lifting Ty off of me. I close my eyes, following them out as Rick and Glenn get him out, laying him on the side of the road. I kneel by Ty's head, handing the walkie over to Rick as I close my eyes, dropping to the ground. I gently close Tyreese's eyes, pulling his beanie up slightly as I flip out my switchblade, closing my eyes as I push it into his head.

* * *

Sasha picked the spot, I dug the grave. It's a nice spot, too. Right under a beautiful weeping willow. I bet that in the evening, when the sun's going down, that the sunset's real pretty. We stand in silence around the open grave as Gabriel reads a prayer out of his Bible, and one by one, we all throw in a shovelful of dirt. Sasha is the last one, then throws the shovel down by the remaining dirt. I kneel beside Tyreese's grave, shoveling in the rest of the dirt. Once I finish, I sigh, looking up at the two sticks tied together to form a cross, Ty's beanie that he always wore on top of it. I get my feet, looking down at the grave. I softly say, "I thought you'd stay."


	7. Them

**_~Clary~_**

When the second, our final, car breaks down, we're about fifty miles from Washington. We get out and walk, and I lag in the back with Maggie, Carl, and a few others. After about a mile, Daryl and Carol break off, going to search for water. I look over as Carl reaches into his bag, pulling out a music box. He holds it out for Maggie, telling her, "I found this when we were looking for water."

"What is it?" she inquires, taking it.

"I think it's used to play music. It's broken, though. But I thought you might like it."

Maggie looks over at him, smiling softly. "Thank you, Carl."

He nods once, then looks over at me as we step away from her, crossing to the other side of the road. I keep my gaze on Maggie as Gabriel steps up beside her, messing with the collar of his shirt. "They used to joke these things were left over from the days of hair shirts," he tells her. "The church actually made shirts out of hair. So if you wore it, you could atone just a little for your sins."

"I know what a hair shirt is," Maggie replies. "My daddy was religious. I used to be."

"If you ever want to talk," Gabriel starts, "about your father, or about Beth."

"Please, stop."

"Whenever you're ready, I'm here," he continues, and Maggie shoots me a look for help. I step away from Carl, muttering, "I'll be back."

"You never even met them," Maggie says to him, and I don't miss the grateful look in her eyes when she sees me coming to her rescue.

"I know you're in pain," he says, and I put my hand on his chest, pushing him away from Maggie.

"You don't know shit," I snap. "So back the hell off. You had a job, didn't you? You were supposed to be there to help people, to save your flock. But you weren't. You didn't. You hid like a fuckin' coward. Don't act like that didn't happen. So you back the hell off and back the fuck up."

I turn and with Maggie, walk on ahead, Carl joining us a moment later. "Not bad," he remarks.

"Why thank you," I say, glancing over at him. I turn to look at the walkers about thirty yards behind us, the ones that we've been letting follow us until we have a better place to kill them all. "The number's growin'. We're gonna have to do something soon if we don't want to get swarmed."

It's not long after that Carol joins us again, Daryl still off searching. We come to a bridge, and Rick stops. "Here," he says. "Push 'em over the sides."

"Sounds good to me," Abe tells him. Michonne, Rick, Glenn, and I stay to one side, while Abraham, Sasha, and Maggie line up on the other as the walkers near, the rest of the group going to the other end of the bridge. Rick steps forward as the first one nears, and for some reason, I'm reminded of the barn on that day. How we're taking out the walkers that have been near us for a while, a small group stepping forward to kill while the others stay back.

The first one stumbles over to Rick, who steps back until he's at the edge. He shoves the walker past him, and it falls off the side. Abe does the same with two on his side. Michonne simply side steps hers. I chuckle as I step aside to let my walker fall, and Glenn glances over at me. "What?" he inquires.

"This," I say as we push a walker between us down the bank. "It's so simple, effortless. MacGyver over there, well hell, I wouldn't think to use this."

"It's one of those things you overthink," Glenn replies.

"Exactly," I reply, then look over as Sasha holds off a walker with one arm, driving her knife into its head with the other. "Aw, hell."

"Stay in line," Rick orders, drawing his machete. "Flank her. Keep it controlled."

He takes down a walker, as the rest of us draw our weapons, starting forward. "Plan just got dicked," Abe remarks.

As Sasha kills another, Michonne grabs her arm, and Sasha turns on her. "Stop," Michonne orders. "Just get out of here."

Sasha rips her arm free, moving forward to take down any walker she sees. I look over as I hear Rick cry out, but Daryl's here, saving him. "Oh shit!" I cry, seeing the walker right in front of me.

I duck under its arms, looking up at the six-foot-something walker. I curse under my breathe, but a blade swings over my head, decapitating it. For once, I'm grateful for my height, or rather lack thereof. "Easy there, 'chonne!" I call over to her.

As we get to the end, Michonne shoves Sasha away, pushing her to the ground, and takes out the remaining walker. She looks over at her, saying, "I told you to stop."

The group's silent, all taking a moment to catch their breath. Daryl pulls Rick to his feet, and he gives my brother a nod of thanks. I step towards Sasha, who had gotten to her feet and started walking away from us, continuing on. "Hey!" I bark after her. "Where the hell do you think you're goin'?"

She doesn't even acknowledge me. I run to catch up to her, grabbing her arm to make her look at me. Sasha spins, raising a hand, which I catch before she can strike me. "Do I look like a fuckin' punchin' bag to you?" I growl.

I release her, stepping back as she glares at me. "What?" I challenge.

She shakes her head. "I didn't need your help."

"Dammit, Sash! You gotta stop with the kamikaze shit! You're a damn good shot. We can't lose you."

"Is that all you care about?" Sasha asks, looking at me in disbelief. "Good shots? You used to care about this group."

"Before the one in charge stabbed me in the fuckin' back!" I bark, gesturing behind me to Rick. "I care about keepin' this group _alive_. You can't do anythin' without people 'nymore. I need someone to watch my back, so I do my best to keep them alive. _That's_ where my priorities lie."

"You don't have any room to talk," Rick says. "Risking your life all the damn time on stunts that _just_ manage to work."

I turn to face him. "You can shut the fuck up, Sheriff, 'cause I know exactly what the hell I'm doin'. I might risk my life to keep your precious little group safe, but I ain't tryin' to get myself killed." I look around at the ground, seeing them still standing around. "Now let's go! We still got forty-some miles."

"Forty-seven, by my count," Eugene pipes up.

"Shut up and fuck off," I snap. "Let's move."

Rick takes the lead, and Carl drops back to walk with me. "I didn't think you were that pissed about it," he mutters. "I mean, I thought you two made up."

"I don't do chick flick moments, Carl," I say. "I don't talk about _feelings._ "

"I know," he says. "Just, don't let them bottle up, okay? One day, you'll snap. And I pity the poor bastard that made you."

I look ahead at Rick. "Yeah, me too."

* * *

As we near a group of cars, I find myself stepping closer to Daryl, remembering the night before Terminus three weeks before. "I'm gonna head into the woods, circle back," Daryl says, then glances down at me beside him. "Make that we."

"May I come with?" Carol inquires.

"No, just us," he replies. I silently follow him into the woods, slowing to a stop when we come to a decaying deer carcass. "That's a shame," I mutter.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees, and we move on. Thunder starts rumbling up above as we start back, not finding anything. When we step out of the trees, back at the group, Daryl shakes his head. I look over at Abe as he pulls a bottle of brandy out of his bag, and Tara inquires, "So all we found was booze?"

"Yeah," Rosita answers.

"It's not gonna help."

"He knows that."

"It's gonna make it worse," Tara says as Abe takes a long swig.

"Yes, it is."

"He's a grown man," Eugene says. "And I truly do not know if things could get worse."

"Never say that," I tell him, walking over to Abraham. "Things'll always get worse if you say that." I look down at the ginger. "Got any booze for a little lady?"

He holds it up. "Take your fill, darlin'."

I take it, swallowing a mouthful. I'm just about to take another drink when I hear growling. I pass it back down to Abraham, and he gets to his feet behind me. Those aren't walker growls. We turn as a pack of dogs slink out from the tree line, growling. Daryl starts to draw his knife, but Sasha beats us all to it, firing on them. We all pause, silent as we process what just happened. I remark, "Well, hell, that works." I look down at the dogs. "Looks like we got food."

Noah looks up at me. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly," I answer without even looking at him. "Food's food."

* * *

We continue on after we're done eating, trying to get as far as we can before we stop for the night. Abraham and Sasha are behind us, Glenn and Maggie directly in front of Daryl and I. Glenn holds his water bottle out to Maggie, trying to get her to drink some. She refuses, and I close my eyes as I hear her mention Beth, about how it was cruel to find out that she's alive and then lose her right after. I glance behind me as Abraham says to Sasha, "The way you're going, you're what's gonna make things worse." She looks over at him. "Hey, you're with friends."

"We're not friends," she snaps. Abraham sighs, taking a drink from the bottle of booze.

Glenn drops back with us, holding his water bottle out to us. "Daryl," he says.

"No, I'm alright," he replies.

"Daryl," Glenn tries again, and my brother shakes his head. Glenn shifts his gaze to me. "Clary."

"Don't," I say. "Keep if for yourself."

"Cheyenne," he says sternly. "Take the damn water."

Hesitantly, surprised by his harsh tone, I reach forward, gently taking the bottle from his grasp. He smiles softly as I take a sip from the bottle, then I pass it back over to him. Glenn steps over to walk beside me, softly saying, "Hey, I knew you wouldn't take it any other way."

"I know," I whisper, looking up at him. He wraps his arm around my shoulders, kissing my temple, and I freeze, thinking of how Rick did the same thing to Beth moments before she died. "You okay?" he asks.

"I don't know if we're gonna make it."

"Hey, we can make it together. But we can _only_ make it together."

With that, Glenn releases me, and I drop back behind Daryl. To Abraham, I say, "Tell 'em I went lookin' for water, if they ask."

"You got it," Abe replies, and I step off into the tree line, Daryl right beside me. We continue on for a while, finding nothing. We come to a clearing, a barn just a few hundred feet away at the other end of the clearing. Daryl and I stop in the clearing, and he sits, leaning against a tree. I sit across from him, watching as he digs cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket. He puts one in between his lips, and I take one, taking the lighter from him. I light the cigarette, then pass the Zippo back to him. I take a long draw on it as he lights his. We sit in silence for a while, smoking. I put mine out with the heel of my hand, careful not to burn myself.

I look up as Daryl puts his cigarette out on his hand, not even acknowledging that he's burning himself. I think back to our father, him burning us with his cigarettes, and knock it out of his hand. He looks at me, then down at his hand. I move beside him, gently taking his hand and brushing the ash away. A sob suddenly racks his body, and he lets out another. I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and he leans into me. I sit on my knees next to him, my arms around him. Daryl rests his head on my shoulder, crying, letting it out. "It's okay," I whisper, comforting him as though he's a child. "Shh, Daryl, shh. It'll be okay. I know it's hard. I know. We'll make it."

I kiss his forehead, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. It's my turn to comfort him, to take care of him. I'm done being someone that needs saving. It's my turn to do the saving. I'm done being a kid. It's time to grow up.

"How can you know that?" Daryl sobs, his voice wavering.

"I just do," I reply, resting my head on his. "I just do. We'll make it, Daryl. One way or another, you and I, our group, our family, we'll make it. We have to. We're so close."

* * *

Daryl and I arrive back on the road to find the group standing in a circle around something. Rick, seeing us arrive, walks over to us, a piece of paper in his hand. I look at it around Daryl's arm as he holds it up for us to see. _From a friend._

"Friend, my ass," I remark, drawing my crossbow. Daryl does the same, and I scan the tree line as we close the circle, all of us staring at the bottles of water. "There ain't no way we're drinkin' that."

"Well, what else are we gonna do?" Tara inquires.

"Not this," Rick says. "We don't know who left it."

"If that's a trap, we already happen to be in it," Eugene points out. "But I, for one, would like to think it is indeed from a friend."

"What if it isn't?" Carol questions. "What if they put something in it?"

Eugene steps forward, picking up a bottle. "Eugene!" Rosita cries as Tara asks, "What are you doing?"

He unscrews the lid, saying, "Quality assurance."

Eugene raises it to his lips, but before he can take a drink, Abraham knocks it out of his hands without a word. The ginger then steps back, clearly surprised by his actions after how he reacted to finding out that Eugene wasn't really a scientist. "We can't," Rick says.

"If you won't let him do it, then I will," I say, stepping forward. I pull my arm out of Michonne's grasp as she tries to stop me, grabbing a water bottle and raising it to take a drink from it. I feel hands on my arm, yanking it away from my mouth, and a second set grab my other arm, preventing me from fighting back. I kick out, pulling them both to the ground with me. "Clary, stop!" Glenn cries from my left.

"Let go of me!" I bark, trying to pull my arm free of Daryl's grasp. The two try to pin me to the ground, and I only freeze when I feel something on my face. "Guys," I whisper, staring up at the sky. "Did you feel that?"

"What?" Glenn asks, but his voice is drowned out at thunder rumbles. As soon as he says that, the clouds open up, rain pouring down.

"That," I say. "We've got water."

They release my arms, Daryl getting to his feet, Glenn staying on his knees by my side. Tara and Rosita, laughing in relief, join me on the ground, laying down as the rain pours, soaking us all. Within seconds, we're drenched. "Everybody, get the bags," Rick orders. "Anything you can find."

We grab what we can find out of the bags, opening them up so the rain can pour into it. I look over at Carl and Judy, smiling softly as I see him taking off his hat to cover her with it, holding her closer to him as she starts to cry, scared of the thunder. The thunder worsens, and I realize that we're gonna have to find shelter. "Let's keep moving!" Rick orders, yelling to be heard above the sound.

"The barn!" I bark. "Daryl, the barn!"

"What barn?" Rick asks. "Where?"

"Follow us!" Daryl replies, and they quickly throw the stuff that they had gotten out in the bags, following my brother and I through the woods. Rick, Abraham, Glenn, Carol, Daryl, and Maggie enter to clear it, while the rest of us stay out in the rain, staying close to the door. I step closer to Carl, wrapping my arms around him from behind and resting my forehead on his shoulder. He looks at me over his shoulder, asking, "Clary?"

"The barn," I say. "God, the barn."

He turns around at that, wrapping his free arm around me. Carl holds Judy in one arm, me with the other. "I know," he whispers, kissing my forehead. "I remember." I don't look up at the whistle, but he does, then back down at me. "C'mon. It's clear." I follow him inside, sticking closely to his side. "We're gonna be okay. We're gonna make it."

* * *

I sit next to Daryl around the small fire we managed to make, using him for heat more than anything. I glance over my shoulder at Carl, where he lays a few feet away, Judy right beside him. "She took my spot," I mutter, turning back to the fire.

Daryl snorts, while Carol, noticing that Rick looked at him as well, says, "He's gonna be okay. He bounces back more than any of us do."

"I used to feel sorry for the kids that have to grow up now, in this," Rick says.

"And you should," I comment. "They either end up like him or me. Too naive or too cold. Hell, I'm almost glad he's that way."

"No, that's not true. That's not what I meant. I think I got it wrong. Growing up is getting used to the world. This is easier for them, for you, Clary."

"This isn't the world," Michonne speaks up. "This isn't it."

"It might be," Glenn mutters, and that's how I know. That's how I know that we've been out here too long. Glenn has given up hope. He and Carl, they're the hopeful ones in this group. We've been out here too long, seen too much shit, for Glenn to be losing hope. "It might."

"That's giving up."

"It's reality."

"Until we see otherwise, this is what we have to live with," I say. "This is our world now."

"When I was a kid," Rick starts after a long silence. "I asked my grandpa once if he killed any Germans during the war. He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him. But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive. That's the trick of it, I think. We do what we need to do and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in DC, I know we'll be okay. Because this is how we survive. We tell ourselves that we are the walking dead."

Daryl looks down at me, then across the fire at Carol. "We ain't them."

He starts to get up, and Rick says, "We're not them. Hey, we're not."

He stands, looking down at the leader. "We ain't them."

Daryl picks up his crossbow, turning and walking away. I get up after a few minutes, going to follow him. I find him pressing back against the barn door, and it presses back against him. I pause for a second, trying to hear past the thunder. Then, I hear it. I hear them. "Daryl," I breathe, running to his side.

I put my hands against the door, joining him in the fight to keep them out. "You shouldn't be here!" he barks to me.

"It's a little late for that, don't'cha think?" I snap, looking up at him. I turn as Maggie joins us, and Sasha soon follows suit. The group that was around the fire run to our aid, the others following as they wake. I look around at the group, at Daryl and Rick on either side of me, at Abraham above me, and I realize that we're a family, a team. We're a unit. One person, made up of many. We all want to survive, and we fight to do so. Even if one battle is pushing against a door. We all have the will to live, even if some of us don't show it as much as the others. We all want to live, 'cause it's the only thing we can do now.


	8. Trust

_**~Rick~**_

"Everyone," Maggie calls from the door of the barn, and I look up as she steps through. "This is Aaron."

We all scramble to our feet, drawing our weapons, and I grab Judith, holding her close to me as I step forward. I glance up in the hayloft at Clary, who aims her gun at the newcomer from above. Daryl steps outside, looking around, then comes back in to pat Aaron down as Maggie adds, "Sasha and I met him outside. He's by himself. We took his weapons and we took his gear."

Aaron looks around at us, swallowing before he says, "Hi."

Judith starts to cry at the new voice, and I hand her off to Carl. She immediately stops crying once she's in her brother's arms. "It's nice to meet you," Aaron says, starting forward, then stops as we all aim our weapons at him.

"You said he had a weapon?" I inquire. Maggie steps forward, handing me a small revolver. I look it over, then tuck it in my jeans as I look Aaron over. "There something you need?"

"He has a camp nearby," Sasha says. "We wants us to audition for membership."

"I wish there was another word," he says. "Audition makes it sound like we're some kind of dance troupe." He cracks a bit of a grin. "That's only on Friday nights." When no one laughs, his small smile fades. "Um, and it's not a camp. It's a community. I think you all would make valuable additions. But it's not my call. My job is to convince you all to follow me back home." The others look at me at the sound of that, while I continue to keep my eyes on Aaron. "I know. If I were you, I wouldn't go either. Not until I knew what I was getting into." He turns to our sniper. "Sasha, can you hand Rick my pack?"

She hesitates, but eventually does what he asks. I take it from her, listening as he tells me that in the front pocket, there's an envelope. I kneel, putting it on the ground in front of me as he says, "There's no way I could convince you to come with me just by talking about our community. That's why I brought those." I pull out the envelope, feeling a stack of pictures inside. "I apologize in advance for the picture quality. We just found an old camera store last—"

"Nobody gives a shit," Daryl says, effectively cutting him off.

Aaron looks at the hunter, agreeing, "You're absolutely, one hundred percent, right." He turns back as I pull out the photos. "That's the first picture I wanted to show you because nothing I say about the community will matter unless you know you'll be safe. If you join us, you will be." He launches into a speech about how the panels are fifteen by twelve foot slab of steel. "Nothing, dead or alive, gets through those walls without our say so. Like I said, security is obviously important. In fact, there's only one resource more critical to our community's survival. The people." I glance back at Michonne, sharing a look with her. "You can make us even stronger."

I start forward as he continue his bullshit speech, throwing a punch that cuts him off mid-sentence. He drops to the ground, knocked out cold by the force of the punch. I shake out the pain in my hand, walking back towards Michonne. "So we're clear," she hisses, "That look wasn't a "let's attack this man" look. That was a "he seems like an okay guy to me" look."

"We got to secure him," I tell her, then turn to Carl. "Dump his pack. Let's see what this guy really is."

"Rick," Michonne pleads.

"Everyone else," I order, "We need eyes in every direction." I look up in the rafters. "Clary, be our eyes in the sky. They're coming for us. We might not know how or when, but they are."

"Me and Sasha, we didn't see him," Maggie says, looking up from where she kneels beside Aaron. "If he had wanted to hurt us, he could've."

"That don't give him a reason to be trusted," Clary says, startling a few people that forgot she was above us in the rafters.

"Anybody see anything?" I inquire.

"Just a whole lotta places to hide," Glenn says, leaning back from where he looks through a small hole in the wall.

"Keep looking." I walk over to Carl, who's spread Aaron's things out in front of him on a table. "What'd you find?"

He hands over an orange gun, saying, "I've never seen a gun like that before."

I flip open the chamber, noticing how wide it is. "It's a flare gun," I say after a moment.

I take it, stepping back towards Aaron as he comes around. He grins, saying, "That's a hell of a right cross there, Rick."

I look down at him, then order, "Sit him up."

"I think it's better—" Maggie starts, but Aaron cuts her off with, "It's okay."

"He's fine," I say. "Sit him up."

Michonne pulls him up, Maggie keeping a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. "You're being cautious," he says, looking around at the group. "I completely understand."

"How many of your people are out there?" I question. He hesitates, and I hold out the flare gun. "You have a flare gun. You have it to signal your people. How many are out there?"

"Does it matter?" Aaron inquires after a moment.

"Yes. Yes, it does matter."

"I mean, of course, it matters how many people are actually out there, but does it matter how many people I tell you are out there? Because I'm pretty sure no matter what number I say—eight, thirty-two, four hundred forty-four, zero—no matter what I say, you're not going to trust me."

"Well, it's hard to trust a guy that smiles after getting punched in the face."

"How about a guy who leaves bottles of water on the road?"

Daryl looks at the bottles that Aaron was carrying, then inquired, "How long you people been followin' us?"

"Long enough to see that you practically ignore a pack of roamers on your tail," he answers. "Long enough to see that despite a lack of food and water, you never turned on each other. You're survivors and you're people. Like I said, and I hope you won't punch me for saying it again, that is the most important resource in the world."

The others are silent, looking to me and waiting for my next move. I repeat, "How many others are out there?"

"One." I shake my head, and Aaron sighs. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. If it's not words, if it's not pictures, what would it take to convince you that this is for real? What if I drove you to the community? All of you. We leave now, we'll get there by lunch."

"I'm not sure how the sixteen of us are going to fit in the car you and your one friend drove down here in."

"We drove separately. In case we found a group, we wanted to be able to bring them all home. There's enough room for all of us."

"And you're parked just a couple of miles away, right?" Carol inquires.

"East on Ridge Road, right after you hit Route 16. We wanted to get them closer, but then the storm came, blocked the road. We couldn't clear it."

"Yeah, you've really thought this through," I say, slightly impressed by all this.

"Rick, if I wanted to ambush you, I'd do it here. You know, light the barn on fire while you slept, pick you off as you ran out the only exit. You can trust me."

"The last time we trusted a clean, white hippie, he tried to eat us," Clary deadpans from above. Everyone, besides Gabriel, who never approved of our slaughter of the remaining Termites after they helped Bob be killed, nods their agreement. Aaron looks around for her, then back at me, inquiring, "Who's that? Batman?"

We're all silent for a while, reminded of Terminus, before Michonne volunteers, "I'll check out the cars."

"There aren't any cars," I say.

"There's only one way to find out."

"We don't need to find out," I reply, looking up at her.

"We do," she says. "You know what you know and you're sure of it, but I'm not."

"Me neither," Maggie agrees.

I shake my head. "Your way's dangerous. Mine isn't."

"Passing up someplace we can live? Where Judith can live?" Michonne questions. "That's pretty dangerous. We need to find out what this is. We can handle ourselves. So that's what we're gonna do."

"Then I will, too," Glenn decides after sharing a look with his wife. "I'll go."

I sigh, but give in. "Abraham."

"Yeah," he says, picking up his rifle. "I'll walk with 'em."

"Rosita?"

She nods. "Okay."

I turn to Glenn. "There's trouble, you got enough firepower?"

"We got what we got," he says, and I hand him the revolver the girls took from Aaron.

"The walkies are out of juice," I say, looking around at the group leaving. "If you're not back in forty-five minutes, I'll send Clary as our advance guard. If you're not back in sixty, we'll come. Which might be just what they want." As they turn to leave, I look around at the rest. "If we're all in here, we're a target."

"I've got the area covered," Daryl says, picking up his crossbow after moving Aaron to lean against a support beam.

"Alright, groups of two," I say. "Find somewhere safe within eyeshot. Clary?"

"Bird's eye, got it," she replies as the remaining group files out of the barn, pairing up to take watch. I close the door behind them, but not locking it.

"When the world was still the world, I worked for an NGO," Aaron shares. "Our mission was to deliver medicine and food to the Niger River Delta. Bad people pointed guns in my face every other week. You're not bad people. You're not going to kill us. And we are definitely not going to kill you."

"Just because we're good people doesn't mean we won't kill you," I say, turning to look at him. "If the five of them aren't back in an hour, six if we send Clary, then I'll put a knife in the base of your skull."

I keep watch from inside the barn, stopping about a few minutes later to feed Judith, who has started to get a little fussy. Seeing as we have no soft foods for her to eat, I try to use the handle of my gun to crush nuts for her. I balance her on my knees as she cries, and after a minute, Aaron asks, "You did see the jar of applesauce in my bag, right?" I look up at him. "This isn't a trick. This isn't about trying to make you like me. It's self-preservation. Because if the roamers hear her and come this way, I know I'll be the first to go."

I holster my gun, picking Judith up as I stand. I pick up a spoon, opening the jar, then pause, remembering how we thought that the water was poisoned. Applesauce could be the same way. I put some on the spoon, taking it over to Aaron. He looks up at me in disbelief. "You think I'm trying to poison your baby daughter?"

I say nothing, waiting for him to eat it. If it's not poisoned, then he should have no problem eating it. Granted, he could be allergic to apples, but then why would he even have a jar if he was?

"I'm tied up and you've already expressed a willingness to stab me in the head," he says. "How would cruelly killing your daughter in front of you in any way help the situation?"

I kneel beside him now. "Maybe she doesn't die. Maybe she gets sick. Maybe you're the only one that can help her and I just lose."

"I am the only one who can help her because I have _applesauce_ and we all win." I hold the spoon up to his mouth, and he tries to move away. "I hate applesauce. My mom used to make me eat foods that I didn't like to make me more manly. Salmon patties, applesauce, and onions. She was a very confused woman who tried her damndest. I just bring the jar to show we have apple trees nearby."

"Like you said, you'd be the first to go. Eat it," I tell him, and Aaron continues to shake his head. We both turn as there's a thump, Clary finally coming down from the rafters. She lands on her feet, straightening as she looks over at us. "I'll be your damn quality assurance," she snaps.

Before I can stop her, she grabs the spoon from my hand, sticking it in her mouth as she steps away. After a moment, she says, "It's not poisoned."

I take the spoon from her, tasting a bit myself to double check. Clary looks at me, then shakes her head. "What more do I have to do to get you to trust me?"

I look over at her, silent, not sure of what to say. She continues, "You think I'd let Judy die? You think I'd do that to Carl? You know, I might've killed those people, Rick, but they were gonna die either way. I'm just glad I had the balls to end it for them, to do something, while you were off playin' farmer." Clary looks down at Aaron. "You still want me to join your group? Even now that you know what I've done?"

"We need someone like you," he tells her as I get up, going to feed Judith.

"You don't even know how many people I've killed. And you want to bring me to a place where there's children. You want a monster like me there? Damn, you must be desperate to get this group there."

"You're not a bad person. I've seen how you are. This group matters to you, a lot. I trust you, Clary. Enough to bring you where there's children. I know my judgment's not wrong."

"'The difference in judgement between you and me originates from rules derived from past experiences,'" Clary says. "Captain Levi Ackerman."

"Why do I feel like that's a character from something and not an actual person?" he inquires.

"Because he is." After a moment, she turns away from him and looks at me. "He's good."

We watch as she climbs back up into the rafters, and Aaron looks at me, eyebrows creased in confusion. "What was that? Was that some kind of test?"

"You passed, Aaron," Clary calls.

"Clary approves of you," I explain. "It's her way of testing people."

"Clary?" he calls. " _Domo arigato._ "

"You got it, Mr. Roboto," she replies, then gives him a quick grin. "I like you."

He turns his attention to me. "The community is big enough. We can find you a house where no one, nothing, outside those walls can hear her cry."

"You got forty-three minutes," I tell him, then look up into the rafters. "Clary? Will you come down here?"

She climbs down near us, asking, "What is it?"

"I need to talk to you," I say, shifting Judith to feed her. "I know that you won't ever forgive me for kicking you out. I sent you out to this hell and then I joined you. But I realize now that it was a mistake. One of the worst mistakes I've ever made. I'm so sorry, Clary."

"You betrayed my trust, Rick," Clary says slowly, glaring at me. "You know that trust and loyalty, that's what I value above all else. I was _never_ disloyal to you, to this group. The Governor nearly killed me back in Woodbury, did things to me that I thought would never happen again, and I never broke, never told him where the prison was, until he threatened Glenn. Before that night, I would've taken a bullet for you." She snaps her fingers. "Just like that. Without even thinking. Now, hell if I know. If I did, it'd be a reaction that was drilled into my head. I _always_ follow your orders, no matter what you tell me to do. Why? 'Cause I'm the good little soldier servin' under General Grimes. And hell, that's all you see me as. A weapon."

I nearly drop the spoon I was using to feed Judith, then set it down in the applesauce, before walking over to Clary and wrapping my free arm around her. She tenses up underneath me, then very slowly, wraps her arms around my waist. "I'm so sorry," I whisper, pressing my lips to her forehead. "God, Clary. If I knew you thought of yourself like that, I never would've had you do all that. You've gotta stop me if it's too much for you. You never do, and I forget that you're still a kid. I'm so sorry."

"Rick," she mutters. "We've gotta go. We've been out here too long."

"I don't know if this place is real," I tell her, and I'm reminded of the moments before Terminus. How the last time I lied, saying that I had faith in the place. This time, I really don't know. "But no matter what, we'll be okay."

"Will we?" she questions. "In the past month alone. Everyone we lost at the prison. Hershel, Bob, Beth, Tyreese. Can we do this?"

I pull back, bending down to look her in the eyes. "Did you trust me before?"

"Yes."

"Do you still trust me?"

She hesitates, then says, "Yes. I have to."

"That's not what I mean," I tell her, shaking my head. "Clary, I trust you. But have I earned your trust?"

"Hell, Rick, I don't know," she says. "I want to say yes, but dammit, the answer's no. Something like that, how you told me to get out and never come back, I can't trust you after that. I've put my life in your hands, I've stayed quiet and done your bidding. I've killed for you, Rick. And then you go and betray me? No, Rick, you haven't earned my trust. It's gonna take a hell of a lot more. I'll still follow you, but I don't trust you."

I wrap my arm around her again, apologizing yet again. "I'm so sorry for kicking you out, Clary. I didn't know what else to do. I thought I was protecting you from Tyreese."

She laughs softly. "Rick, didn't you know Ty? He'd never hurt me. He never did." Clary looks up at me. "I get why you did it, Rick. I've said that much to Carl. It's hard, but I forgive you. I don't have any other choice, so I have to let it go. But please, never do it again." She closes her eyes, sighing. "I can't leave this group again. I wanted to before, back in Atlanta, but I came back. Don't make me leave again, Rick."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

There's still twenty minutes left, five before I'm sent, when we hear the sound of vehicles approaching. "Clary?" Rick calls up to me, and I scramble to my feet to look out the hole in the roof. "What do you see?"

"Two of 'em," I reply. "Car and RV." I look down at Aaron and Rick. "Two cars. Just like he said."

I stay in the rafters as the search party wanders in, all carrying cans of food. I jump down at that, taking a can of S'ghetti Rings from Abraham, which he lets out a growl at, and I immediately hand over the pasta to him. _Okay, Sergeant Brooding likes his S'ghetti Rings. Got it. Do not touch._ "Where'd you find all this?" I inquire.

"Camper," he replies, and the rest of the group files in, carrying the rest of the food. We gather around the back of the barn, and Rick takes a can, holding it up for Aaron to see as he says, "This is ours now."

"There's more than enough," Aaron says.

"It's ours, whether we go to your camp or not."

"What do you mean?" Carl questions. "Why wouldn't we go?"

"If he were lying or if he wanted to hurt us, but he isn't and he doesn't," Michonne says, looking around at us. "We need this. So we're going. All of us. Somebody say something if they feel differently."

"I don't know, man," Daryl says after a moment, and I look over at him in surprise. I thought that he'd be one of the last to object to going. "This barn smells like horse shit."

I snort at that, reminded of his statement about the painting. "At least it doesn't look like a dog sat in paint."

"That's not goin' away," he sighs.

"No, it's not," I agree, then look up at the group. "We should go."

"Yeah," Rick decides. "We're going." He turns to Aaron. "So where are we going? Where's your camp?"

"Every time I've done this, I've been behind the wheel," he says. "I've driven the recruits back. I believe you're good people. I've bet my life on it. I'm just not ready to bet my friends' lives yet."

"You're not driving," Michonne tells him, walking over to look at him as Rick grabs the map. "So if you want to get home, you'll have to tell us how."

"Go north on Route 16," Aaron gives, looking over at Rick.

"And then?" I question.

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"We'll take 23 north," Rick decides. "You'll give us directions from there."

"That's, well—I don't know how else to say it—that's a bad idea. We've cleared 16. It'll be faster."

"We'll take 23," Rick repeats, getting to his feet. "We leave at sundown."

"We're doing this at night?" Sasha inquires.

"It's dangerous, but Rick knows what he's doing," I say. "It's better than ridin' up to the gates durin' the day. If this place ain't what we think it is, if we don't want to stay, then it's better to get the hell out of there before they know we're there."

"No one is going to hurt you," Aaron tries again.

"Aaron," I say, kneeling by him. "I believe you, but Rick knows what he's doing. He wants to keep us safe."

"He's trying to protect your group, but he's putting them in dangerous."

"Then tell me where the camp is," Rick says. "We'll leave right now." Aaron shakes his head, and Rick looks around at the group. "It's going to be a long night. Eat. Get some rest if you can."

Rick heads outside, and Michonne follows him, while I take a seat on the ground next to Aaron. "You're loyal," I say after a few moments, then look over at him. "You won't tell us where your camp is. I get it, man. You gotta protect the people back home. But the thing that I don't get is that if you're gonna take us back, then why won't you tell us? You're plannin' on takin' us there, so you might as well tell us now. We're gonna find out sooner or later."

"I know," he says. "I realize that. I know what kind of people you are. Yes, I've been following you because I need to learn who you all are. But I haven't been following you long enough to know what you're capable of. What you'd do to another group."

"Depends on who they are," I reply. "Most of the ones we've run into, hell, they ain't friendly. Rather, weren't friendly. We took them out 'cause they were a threat to us. No other choice." I yawn, then lean back against the support beam to his right. "Do me a favor and wake me up when we're gettin' ready to leave."

I close my eyes, dozing off and on for the day. I look up as I feel someone shaking my arm, and I see Rosita leaning over me. "Wake up," she says softly. "Rick said we're leaving soon, so you might want to get your stuff. He said to tell you that you're gonna be in the car."

"Thanks, Rosita," I reply, and she pulls me to my feet. I follow the others outside, joining Glenn by the white car. Rick and Michonne join Glenn and I, Aaron in tow, and I watch as Carl and Daryl join the group riding in the RV. I inquire, "You're splitting up us Killjoys?"

"Did you just call us Killjoys?" Glenn asks.

"Well, are you ready, Rhee?"

"Yeah," he says.

"How about you, Carl?"

"Oh, I'm there, baby," he calls.

"How about you, Darry?" I ask.

"Fucking ready," Daryl says, trying not to grin too much.

"Well, I think I'm alright," I say. I glance up as the sun starts to disappear, the sky already becoming closer to black. "We should go."

Glenn climbs in the driver's seat, Rick joining him up front as the others climb in the RV. Michonne and I put Aaron between us in the backseat, his bag at his feet. We lead the way down the road, passing a sign marking the road 23. Rick rifles through the glove compartment, pulling out a group of license plates. "I'm trying to collect all fifty states," Aaron explains. "Put them all on a wall in my house."

"You have your own house?" Michonne questions.

He nods, and gestures to the bag at his feet. "See for yourself."

Michonne reaches down, pulling out the envelope with the pictures. I lean over Aaron, looking at them with her. After she flips few a through, I say, "'chonne, can I look at those?"

She hands them over to me, and I quickly flip through them, looking to see if it's in there. I look over at Aaron when I don't find what I'm looking for. "Why are there no pictures of your people?"

"Oh, I took a picture of the whole group," he answers. "I didn't get the exposure right. When I tried to develop it later, it just—"

"Did you ask him the questions?" Michonne inquires, looking up at Rick. I close my eyes, cursing under my breath. I knew there was something I was forgetting.

"No," Rick answers.

Michonne turns her attention to Aaron. "How many walkers have you killed?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Aaron questions.

"The dead," I say. "How many have you killed?"

"I don't know. A lot."

"How many people?"

"Two."

"Why?" Michonne asks.

"Because they tried to kill me," Aaron answers simply.

I look up ahead as Rick lifts something up from the floorboard, and I ask, "The hell is that thing?"

"You were listening to us?" Glenn questions, glancing over his shoulder to look at Aaron.

"I already said I was watching you," Aaron replies. "Yes, I was listening."

"It means his people could have one, too," Rick rushes. "They could've heard our plan. This isn't safe."

"Shit!" Glenn shouts, and I look ahead as a walker appears directly in front of us.

"Punch it!" I bark, knowing the rest of the group is right behind us. "Keep going!"

"Glenn!" Rick barks as Glenn presses down on the gas, pushing through.

"Clary's right!" he replies. "They're right behind us! They would've hit us. They can get out!"

We keep pushing through, trying to make it through the herd on the road. In no time, the blood on the windshield is so thick we have trouble seeing through it. When we don't hit anything for a few seconds, Glenn hits the brakes, spinning the car around as it comes to a stop. Rick's immediately out, and Glenn inquires, "Everyone okay?"

"We're good back here," I answer after sharing a nod with Aaron and Michonne. I follow Glenn out of the car, drawing my knife as he climbs on top of the car. "I don't see them!" Rick calls after scanning the herd.

"No, they're gone," Glenn says, able to see over the top of it. "They got away."

"Circle back," I say. "We'll find 'em that way."

Michonne, Rick, and I climb back in as Glenn wipes off the windshield, climbing back in as Rick looks down at the map. "We can take a left a couple of miles up 23," Rick says. "Jefferson Avenue."

"Jefferson Avenue," Glenn repeats.

"We gotta get outta here," Aaron says.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I say, glancing over at him. As Glenn tries to turn the key in the ignition. The engine sputters, refusing to start. He pleads with it, trying to start it, as walkers stumble towards us, Aaron still insisting that we get out of here right now. I reach for the door handle, saying, "Let me see what I can see."

I scramble out without waiting for an answer, heading over to the hood, glancing over my shoulder for the approaching walkers. I pull arms out from under the hood, tossing them away. "Do you need a hand?" Michonne asks from inside the car.

"No, I got one!" I call back, tossing another arm away. I glance over my shoulder again, and something by the water tower in the distance catches my attention. I turn, watching as a flare goes up. I start back towards the car, leaning down to look in the window at them. "Did you see that?"

Suddenly, the door is kicked open, and I yelp in surprise as it hits me, the force sending me backwards. I try to regain my balance just as I reach the edge of the road, letting out another yelp as I fall down into the ditch. "Clary!" I hear Glenn cry, and I push myself up as he scrambles down to meet me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I tell him, accepting his hand and letting him pull me to my feet. "Aaron. Where is he?"

"This way," Glenn says, taking my hand and pulling me with him as we run through the forest. "Michonne and Rick went after him. Our people are gonna think we shot that flare."

We catch up to them about fifty feet in, finding them only because Rick has started firing at the walkers in the woods. I stumble back as I feel a hand on my arm, turning and driving my knife into the walker's forehead. I quickly look around, not seeing any of my group. "Glenn?" I call as I hear gunshots not to far off to my left. "Glenn!"

I take off towards them, seeing his silhouette illuminated by the gunshots. Then, I see the walker nearly on him from behind. "Glenn!" I call out in warning as I run, leaping over a fallen log to reach him or the walker first.

I arrive just as it grabs his arm, and I grab its head, yanking it back. I fall to the ground with it, driving my knife down in its head. He pulls me to my feet as we both take a second to catch our breath, and I ask, "You bit?"

"I'm good," he answers. "You okay? You disappeared there."

I nod once. "I'm fine. Let's go find the others."

We move on, walking through the woods and listening for any signs of Rick, Michonne, or Aaron. We come into a worn path as I hear snarling, and turn to find Aaron, his back against a tree, struggling to keep a walker off of him. Glenn and I look at each other for a moment, and then I start forward, grabbing the walker and pulling it off of him, sticking my knife through the base of its skull. "Hands," I say.

Aaron looks at the two of us in confusion for a second, then turns around. I slice the rope binding him, and we turn at gunshots in the distance. "Run if you want," I tell him. "But we're gone."

"We've got other things to worry about," Glenn adds, as we start off towards the gunshots.

"We can make it together," Aaron says, and we both pause, looking at each other. "But we can only make it together." Glenn and I turn to look at him. "That's what you said. I was listening. We can do this, but we have to stick together."

"Then you tell us what that flare was for," I demand, starting towards him. He struggles for an answer, and I aim my gun at him. "Tell me, or I swear to whatever god you believe in, I will shoot you where you stand."

"Eric's in danger," he says after a second. "He's my boyfriend. It's our system. You get in trouble, you fire a flare. Please, we've gotta get there."

Glenn and I look at each other, and I nod once. He hands over the gun Rick gave him, the one that was originally Aaron's, as I holster mine. "I know what it's like to have the damsel in distress boyfriend," I tell him. "Let's go save yours, Prince Charming."

"Thank you," he breathes, following us as we head towards the gunshots.

"Don't thank us yet," I say, staring ahead. "He ain't safe yet."

Up ahead, there's a gunshot, and then a bright flash of light. We all look at each other, then, realizing it's Rick and Michonne, take off towards it. We arrive as Rick tries to pull his machete out of a walker on the ground, Michonne standing with her sword raised, waiting for the walkers. The three of us stand in a line, firing on the walkers approaching. Rick and Michonne turn as soon as they're all down, and Aaron holds up his hands in surrender. "If you really want to tie me up again, that's fine, but hurry," he says, putting the gun on the ground.

Rick takes the gun, then says, "There's no time." He gestures in the direction the walkers came from. "We're going that way."

Rick takes the lead while I stay in the rear, covering us from behind. We come out onto a road, a sign making me realize that this is Route 16. The road is deserted, and Rick questions Aaron, "Where are they?"

"I don't know," he answers.

"If this is a trap to get us back where you want us, your people are going to die tonight."

"It ain't a trap, Rick," I say, starting forward, and Aaron follows beside me. "Flare was towards the water tower. They're gonna think we fired it, so that's where they're gonna be. That's where we go." I glance over at Aaron, who looks down at me in gratitude, and I mutter to him, "He's gonna be okay."

* * *

As we enter the small town, nearing where the water tower is, Rick starts whistling, waiting for the signal to come back to us. It echoes quite eerily in the alleyway, and a short, high-pitched whistle comes back. A figure appears, waving us towards them. As we draw nearer, I see that it's Daryl, and run to meet him. I wrap my arms around his neck in relief that he's safe, closing my eyes as I hear the others run out to meet us. "You okay?" he inquires softly, his words muffled by my hair.

"I'm good," I answer, looking up at him. "Are you guys okay?"

He nods once, and I turn as I feel a hand on my back. "Clary," Carl says softly, and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his shoulder. He kisses my cheek, muttering, "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm not hurt," I tell him, then look up as I hear Aaron questioning, "Eric?"

I glance up at Carl as I look around, not seeing anyone new. "Is he..."

Carl's reply is cut off by a new voice calling, "In here!"

"Eric!" Aaron cries, rushing into the building where the voice came from. Rick starts forward to go after him, but I reach out, grabbing his arm as I say, "Rick, wait!" He stops, turning to look down at me. I remove my arm from out Carl, stepping towards Rick and lightly keeping my hand on his arm. "Let me, okay?"

"Go," he orders, and I remove my hand from his, turning and hurrying inside. I step into the room, staying silent, as I see Aaron on the floor with a guy I'm guessing to be Eric. He pulls a license plate out of his bag, studies Aaron for a moment, then says, "You lost the plates, didn't you?"

"I lost the car," Aaron says, looking up at him.

Eric laughs. "Maybe it's for the best. That monstrosity out front can run. It's so ugly, it'll scare the roamers away."

Aaron chuckles at that, and I find myself smiling slightly in amusement. After a moment, I give in, laughing at it. They turn at the sound, and I quiet down, afraid that I was interrupting. Eric and I study each other for a moment, then I say, "So you're the damsel." He looks up at Aaron as I step in the room, and I chuckle at them. I look down at Aaron, grinning slightly. "You did good, Aaron. He's cute."

They both blush, and I walk over, kneeling beside them. "Hi," I say, holding out my hand. "I guess it's time I formally introduce myself. Name's Clary Dixon."

"Eric," he replies, shaking my hand. "It's nice to meet you."

I sit back on my feet, looking over at the other newcomer. "Aaron, I hate to make you leave him, but Rick's gonna want to talk to you."

"It's okay," he says, squeezing Eric's hand. He looks down at him. "It's okay. I'll be back."

I stay for a moment more after Aaron gets up, then follow him out to where the others are. "Excuse me," he says, getting everyone's attention. "Everyone. Thank you. You saved Eric. I owe you. All of you. And I will make sure that debt is paid in full when we get to our community. When we get to Alexandria. Now, I'm not sure about you, but I'd rather not do any more driving tonight." There are small chuckles of agreement throughout the group. "Maybe we can hit the road tomorrow morning."

"That sounds fine," Rick agrees, stepping to block the doorway. "But if we're staying here for the night, you're sleeping over there." He points to a spot across the room."

"You really think we gotta do that?" Maggie questions.

"It's the safe play. We don't know you."

Aaron turns to look at him, telling our leader, "The only way you're gonna stop me from being with him right now is by shooting me."

He takes a step forward, and I put out a hand to stop him. "Let me talk," I tell him, then turn to Rick. "He told us where the camp is, Rick. Everythin' that he's said, it's checked out. Eric's the only other person he's travelling with." He gives me a look out doubt. "They're unarmed. One of 'em's got a broken ankle. I want us to be safe, too, but they ain't a threat. Not like this."

"She's right," Glenn says, stepping to stand beside me. "I can't give up everything else. I know what I said, but it does matter."

Rick's still doubtful, and I slam my hand into the wall. "Goddammit, Rick! You're not gonna stop him! If that was Carl in there, nothin' would stop me from bein' with him! So let him through!"

At that, Rick slowly steps aside. Aaron mumbles his thanks to me as he passes, and I nod once to acknowledge him. I join Carl on the other side of the room, resting my head against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around me. "You think we can make it?" I ask him, keeping my voice quiet.

"We have to," he replies, his voice low as well. "We're so close. We'll make it."


	9. Remember

**Today's the season finale, so I figured I'd post a chapter in honor of it. Also as a birthday present to Standandfight.**

* * *

 _ **~Clary~**_

We make it, just like Carl said we would. We ran into a bit of trouble with the RV's battery, but it wasn't anything that we couldn't fix. And now, as we pull up to the gate of Alexandra, I find myself taking Carl's hand in the nervousness that I won't be accepted here. Aaron told me that he's come across groups where some would be valuable assets, but he was unable to ask them to join because of some of the people in the group. After all that I've done, things that Aaron doesn't know about, I wonder if I'll be allowed to stay here. "We're here," Carl whispers. "We made it."

"We made it," I echo softly as we get up, following the others out of the camper. We slowly make our way forward, Aaron helping Eric along, and we all turn, raising our weapons. as there's a rustling in the weeds on the side of the road. Daryl fires his crossbow, and I look over his shoulder to see a possum, his arrow stuck through it. He picks it up as the gate slides open, revealing a man in his forties with dark hair. He stares at us, and Daryl holds up the possum, saying, "We brought dinner."

"Southern hospitality," I add. The Gatekeeper looks to Aaron, who tells him, "It's okay. Come on in, guys."

We follow him in, looking around at the gated community. The Gatekeeper says, "Before we take this any further, we need you all to turn over your weapons. If you stay, you hand them over."

"We don't know if we want to stay," Rick says, stepping forward with his gun in one hand and baby in the other.

"It's fine, Nicholas," Aaron tells the Gatekeeper.

"If we were gonna use 'em, we'd have started already," Rick adds.

"Let them talk to Deanna first," Aaron suggests.

"Who's Deanna?" Abraham questions from the back of the group.

"She knows everything you'd want to know about this place," the recruiter answers. "Rick, why don't you start?"

He turns to look at the rest of us, then catches a glimpse of a walker outside the gate. "Sasha."

She turns, then takes it down with a single shot. He turns back to Aaron after handing Judy to Carl, nodding him on. Rick follows him through Alexandria, remarking, "It's a good thing we're here."

I stand and watch as he disappears farther inside Alexandria, waiting anxiously for his return. About ten minutes later, he appears, Aaron by his side. Before he can ask for a volunteer, I step forward. "Let's get this damn thing over with."

"Good enough," Aaron remarks, and I follow him through the community. He looks down at me as we walk, asking, "So where are you from?"

I glance up at him. "Sorry?"

"In Georgia, where are you from? I heard Rick say that it's been three weeks since Atlanta."

"Don't mention Atlanta," I snap, turning to glare at him. "You don't know what the hell happened there, so don't even mention it."

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "I was just curious where you were from."

"Little town, real little. Bronwood, 'bout fifty miles from the Alabama border. I've never been there, though. This is the first time I've been out of Georgia."

"You've never left Georgia?" he questions, and I shake my head.

"Abe was hell bent on gettin' to DC 'fore we found out Eugene was a fake. 'chonne still wanted us to go, so we did."

Aaron nods slowly, then looks up at a house. "Oh, we're here. Just go on in."

I start up the stairs, then look back down at Aaron. "Thank you. The group, they need this."

"And what about you?" he asks.

"Me, I'm already too far gone. I always have been. Wherever I go, I never fit in. But the others, this place is perfect for them." I look down at my feet as I shift on them, then back up at Aaron. "So, thank you."

I turn and walk inside their leader's house, keeping my hand on the strap of my crossbow as I walk in the living room, where I see a woman sitting. "Hello," she says with a smile, standing to meet me. "I'm Deanna Monroe."

"Clary Dixon, ma'am," I tell her.

She gestures to the chair across from the couch. "Please, have a seat." I do as she says, and she steps behind the couch to a camera on a tripod. "Do you mind if I film this?"

"Go ahead," I tell her, nervously shifting in my chair. She turns it on, then takes a seat across from me. I glance at the wall behind her, noticing a clock ticking on. "Your clock works."

She looks over her shoulder at it, then back to me. "Yes. Why?"

"Out there, it's hard to tell time. Either it drags on or flies by. Most of the time, it feels like it just stops." I remember Dale, and what he said about time. "I had a friend who died a while back. He liked Faulkner. Dale, he told us this quote one time. It was what the father said to the son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said, 'I give you a mausoleum of all hope and desire which will fit your individual needs, no better than it did mine and my father before me. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it. For a moment, now and then, and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it.'"

"Your friend sounded like a wise man," Deanna says.

"He was. It's sad that he went the way he did, so early on."

"I'm sorry to stop your reminiscing, but do you mind if we get on with this?"

"No, it's okay," I tell her. "It's probably better that I stop."

"I was a congressperson before all this," she tells me. "Did you do anything?"

"I hunted, but other than that, no," I answer. "I was too young."

"Oh, you look older than what I thought. How old are you?"

"Oh, man," I say. "I don't know. Probably about sixteen, maybe. Or close to it."

"Who are you, in the group?"

"I'm kind of that little sister that everyone is determined to protect, even though I kick ass and take names on a daily basis," I tell her, with a mischievous grin, and Deanna chuckles. I grow serious as I say, "But seriously, that group, they're my family. And family is everything. So if anyone hurts them, they better watch their ass. 'Cause I'm a comin'. And I am a force to be reckoned with. I will not hesitate. If someone gets any of my family hurt, or any of my blood killed, I will stomp their ass into the ground. I ain't afraid to kill, either. If any of my blood is killed, then you better know that I will not stop until I kill the person responsible. There will be a dead body by the time I'm done, and it will not belong to anyone in my group. And it will not be one of the bodies on the other side of that gate."

Deanna stares at me as I continue. "Who am I, in the group? I'm the force to be reckoned with. I'm the oncoming storm. I'm the _aequitas._ "

"Who are you?" Deanna asks, watching every move I make.

I say, "I can tell you right now, I ain't a hero. I've killed people. I've killed sixteen people since all this went down. I ain't proud of it, but, that's me."

"Tell me your story," Deanna says, recovering a little from her shock.

"My story?" I inquire.

"Yes. Where you were when it started, what happened to you since."

"You see, now that's a story I'm not too awfully comfortable with sharin'," I tell her. "You can't just go up to people that come from out there and ask them to recount all the horrors they've seen, that they've caused. So here's the rundown. Daryl's and I's father was killed in the beginning. No love was lost there. I lost my best friend, and then Daryl and I found our brother. I got separated from them, met Glenn. Glenn and I went to Atlanta, met up with some people. Made a group, found my brothers. Our camp was overrun, and we hit the road. Only six of us are the original group, the ones that left Atlanta after the camp fell. Carl, Glenn, Carol, Daryl, Rick, and I. There are others that survived when we left, and others that we've come across, but, well, they're all dead.

"Along the way, I killed. I lost people. We all did. It was kill or be killed. In this world now, you either kill or you die, or you die and you kill. There are some deaths that I'm responsible for. There was a girl about twelve, three, no four, years younger than me, that I was responsible for. She died because I left her alone. I tried to save people, but, I don't think you get to save people anymore. You only get to lose people."

* * *

I walk into the kitchen of our new house after my first real shower in a hell of a long time to find Rick sitting in a chair, a blonde woman cutting his hair. "Damn, Officer Friendly," I say, seeing that he shaved. I kneel in front of him, looking up at him. "I forgot what was under there. You finally shaved that goddamn squirrel off your face."

"I forgot you even had ears," he says, pushing a piece of hair that fell out of my bun out of my face. "The way you keep that hair down all the time."

"Touché, good sir." I stand, looking at the blonde as she finishes cutting his hair. "Who're you?"

"Oh, I'm Jessie," she says with a grin. "Jessie Anderson. You must be Clary."

"How'd you know my name?" I ask, taking a step backwards.

"Deanna mentioned you. She made a suggestion that I should introduce you to my oldest son, Ron. If that's okay with your parents."

"I only have Daryl. He doesn't care what I do as long as I don't get myself killed."

"Oh," she says softly. "I'm sorry."

I scoff. "Don't be."

She tries to give me a reassuring smile. "Um, maybe I could give you a haircut, if you want one."

"Thanks, but I think I'm gonna keep it long." I pull on my boots, looking up at Rick. "I'm gonna go check out the other house."

"Alright," he says. Jessie follows me out the door, heading down the street as I step into the second house. It's just about as huge as the first one, just as fancy, too. These places are like damn mansions. I wander over to the bookshelf, picking up a copy of _White Fang_ by Jack London. I take a seat on the couch, becoming so absorbed in the book that I don't even notice that I'm not alone until it's plucked out of my hands. I look up, crying, "Hey!"

"You didn't even notice me or Carol," Carl says, handing the book back to me.

"I'm on the last page, you asshole."

"Oh, god, sorry. I hate when you have to stop on the last page."

I quickly finish the page, then close the book, accepting Carl's offer to pull me to my feet. I put the book back on the shelf as we look around the living room, Carl flipping through the CD's by the bookshelf. He chuckles as he pulls one out, and I ask, "What is it?"

I watch as he puts the CD in the player beside it, walking over to me as one of the songs start. Carl takes my hands in his, asking, "Dance with me?"

"I guess," I say, and he puts his hands around my waist, holding me close to him. I wrap my arms around his neck as he gently sways. "I can't dance, though."

"Just let me lead," Carl mutters, leaning down and resting his forehead against mine. "For once."

I close my eyes, listening to the song as I sway with him. "What is this?" I ask after a moment.

"'By Your Side,'" he answers. "It's by a band I liked before."

I look up at him, then move to rest my head against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms tighter around me. "I'll never let you go," he says softly, echoing the lyrics.

When the song ends a moment later, he pulls back slightly, then leans down and kisses me. Carl rests his forehead against mine, looking down in my eyes. "You know that, right? I'll always be right beside you. I love you, Clary."

"Ditto," I reply. We turn as there's a thumping upstairs, and glance at each other before starting off towards the sound. Carl leads the way upstairs, and we start down a hall when we hear another thump come from the door at the end. He draws his knife while I flip out my switchblade, and he looks over at me. "I will never get over that," he says.

"What?" I inquire.

"You flipping out your switch. It's friggin' amazing."

"I just watched _The Outsiders_ more times that what's healthy," I reply with a shrug. We reach the door, and I step to the side, putting my hand on the door handle as Carl raises his knife. He nods once, and I yank open the door. I look over his shoulder as he steps inside. "There's no one here."

"I noticed," he says, looking around. Pillows and a few blankets are scattered around, accompanied by posters on the wall, CDs on the floor, and a rope going out the window. I pull it in, untying it, and closing the window. I turn to him as he picks up a comic book, and I ask, "Are we gonna mention this to your dad?"

Carl looks around, then shakes his head. "No, I don't think we need to."

"Alright," I say, nodding once. "C'mon, they're gonna be lookin' for us. It's nearly dark out."

We walk downstairs and out of the house, climbing the stairs to the larger house in silence. "There you are," Rick says, opening the door as he sees us approaching. "C'mon in. We're all staying in the same house tonight."

"Smart," I tell him, closing the door behind us. "This place might not be what it seems. They take our weapons then try to split us up. I'd protest if we weren't staying in the same house."

Once inside, Carl takes a seat on the couch, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. I take a seat beside him, stretching out and laying my head in his lap. I throw my feet in Glenn's lap, who chuckles slightly as he props his feet up on the coffee table. I look up at Carl as he pulls my hair out of the bun, running his fingers through it. "Don't you think your hair's too long?" he asks. "A walker could grab it, you know."

I pick up a piece, considering it for a moment before I drop it back down. "Alright," I say. "I'll cut it. But how short should I make it?"

"Maybe your shoulders?" Carl suggests, letting his fingers stop at a spot barely past my shoulders.

I nod. "I'll cut it tomorrow. I'm too tired to right now." I look up at him. "Don't you dare cut yours. It looks better long."

"You got it," he says, leaning down to kiss me. "Get some sleep. You hardly slept yesterday. You need it."

I nod once, closing my eyes as he continues to run his fingers through my hair. I'm just about to fall asleep when a door opens, and I lift my head up as Rick opens it to reveal Deanna. "Rick, I—" she starts, then cuts herself off. "Wow. I didn't know what was under there. I don't mean to interrupt. I just wanted to stop by and see how you were all settling." She looks over at us. "Oh my. You're all staying together. Smart."

"No one said we couldn't," Rick says as I push myself up, my fingers brushing over the switchblade in my pocket, prepared for anything.

"You said you're a family," Deanna says, looking up at our leader. "That's what you said. Absolutely amazing to me how people with completely different backgrounds and nothing in common can become that. Don't you think?"

"Everybody said you gave them jobs."

"Yeah," Deanna nods. "Part of this place." She chuckles, looking up at Rick. "Looks like the communists won after all."

"You didn't give me one," Rick tells her.

"I have. I just haven't told you yet. Same with Michonne. I'm closing in on something for Sasha. Aaron told me how well Glenn and Clary work together, so I'm thinking, Miss Dixon, of putting you on the run team."

"Much obliged, ma'am," I say, getting to my feet. "That's what I'm damn good at."

"Please," she tells me. "Call me Deanna." She turns to my brother. "I'm just trying to figure Mister Dixon out, but I will." I snort. She should have fun with that one. Deanna looks up at Rick, glancing him over. "You look good." She waves as she turns to leave. "Goodnight, everyone."

There are various biddings of goodnight as Deanna walks out the door, leaving us alone for the night. "It's late," Rick says, glancing down at us. "We should get some sleep."

I curl up beside Carl on the floor as the others all get comfortable, Rick turning the light off once we're all down. I close my eyes, resting my head on Carl's shoulder as he threads his fingers through mine. His soft voice makes me open my eyes when he inquires, "You okay?"

"I'm still here," I answer. "That's as okay as it gets."

* * *

 ** _~Carl~_**

Clary sticks close to me as we follow Jessie's oldest boy, Ron, through the halls of his house. "We're almost always here after school, so you can come by any time," he tells us.

"You guys go to school?" I ask.

"It's in a garage. Little kids go in the morning, us in the afternoon." He glances at us over his shoulder. "Probably the both of you, too, right?"

"Probably," I say with a nod, while Clary says, "Not me."

"What do you mean?" Ron questions.

"Deanna put me on the run team. 'Sides, trig ain't gonna help you fight off anythin' out there. 'No, good sir, for I have the power of triangles.' I do what I need to survive and nothin' else."

Ron quickly shuts his mouth, turning ahead as I lower my voice to speak to Clary. "Cold hearted badass. Nice."

"It's what I do," she replies, pushing her newly cut hair out of her eyes. That had gotten quite a response from the others when she walked out of our bathroom and downstairs this morning. Glenn alone nearly dropped his breakfast, Abraham drawing out a, "Holy shit." We stop in the doorway to Ron's room, as he says, "Guys, this is Carl and Clary. Carl, Clary, this is Mikey and Enid."

"Hey," the one named Mikey says as he gets up from his spot by a tv. Enid, the girl of the trio, sits on the bed in silence, reading a comic. Ron glances over at us, telling us, "Enid's from the outside, too. She just came eight months ago."

I nod slowly, then remember the comic book Clary and I found yesterday. I pull it out of my back pocket, asking, "Oh, um, is this yours?"

"Sorry," Ron apologizes. "We didn't know you got that house."

"We mostly just hang out there and listen to music," Mikey says. "That's Enid's, by the way."

I hold it out to her, and she takes it, tossing it on the bed beside her, without a word. Clary and I share a look as Ron asks, "Want to play some video games? Or, Mikey's house has a pool table, but his dad's kinda strict about it."

"It's okay," Mikey interjects. "He's at work. You probably met him yesterday, at the gate."

I take a step back, nearly knocking into Clary, as she steps closer to me. We look at each other, and Ron realizes how overwhelmed we are almost immediately. "Sorry," he apologizes again. "I guess we came on kind of strong. We can just hang out."

"You don't even have to talk if you don't want to," Mikey tells us.

"I just remembered, I gotta go talk to Deanna's kid," Clary says, her eyes on the others. "'Bout the run tomorrow."

"Hey, stay safe," I tell her, turning to look at her.

"I won't be long. I'll be back, give me half an hour."

With that, she turns and walks off to see Aiden. I turn back to the others as Ron turns to Mikey and the television, with the Xbox and PlayStation. He rambles on about the games he has, wanting to know what kind of games I like. I mostly just shrug, waiting for Clary to come back. I don't even notice when he stops talking, and jump back when he snaps his fingers in my face, reaching for my knife. "Hey, easy, Carl," Ron says, seeing me reaching for the weapon. "Hey, I was just gonna ask you what was up with Clary. She doesn't let anyone touch her. What happened to her?"

"If you want to know, you ask her," I say defensively, refusing to tell them about the night before we reached Terminus.

"Okay, man. I just want to know, did something happen? Or is she just naturally like that?"

"I tried to protect her and I couldn't," I finally say. "Let's leave it at that."

The others are silent, and I suddenly feel even more uncomfortable than before. I look at the clock, and see that she should have been back twenty minutes ago. "You're waiting for her to come back, aren't you?"

I turn as Enid speaks, slightly surprised. I nearly forgot she was there. "Yeah," I admit. "We haven't been separated for more than a few hours since the beginning, really, except for a few times. And I thought that she was dead for most of them. It seems like every time, something bad happens. We lose someone."

Everyone is completely silent, and I feel like I need to find Clary all of the sudden, make sure she's alright. This place, it doesn't feel real unless I know that Clary is safe. "I'm gonna go get some air," I say quickly, standing.

I try not to hurry outside, but as soon as I'm out of the room, I pick up the pace a little. I step outside onto the porch, hurrying down the stairs. I jog down the street, and start running when I come to the intersection. I run down the street, looking for her. I see her a little ways away, and run to meet her. "Carl?" she asks when she sees me running towards her. "Everything okay?"

I reach her, then stop, realizing that I overreacted a little. "It's okay," I say. "I got a little worried, to be honest. You weren't back yet."

"Sorry," Clary apologizes. "Talking to Aiden took longer than I thought, and then Carol held me up."

"No, it's okay," I tell her, stepping closer. "While you were gone, they asked me what happened to you. I told them if they wanted to know, then ask you themselves. They wanted to know if something happened or not, so I told them that I tried to protect you and I couldn't."

"Carl," she says softly, taking my hand. I turn away from her touch, the exact opposite of what would normally happen. And I do feel guilty about what happened the night before Terminus. I tried to protect her from the claimer at our window, but I couldn't protect her from the one beating Daryl. That one that ended up nearly raping her, and then the other that gave her a concussion.

Clary wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head between my shoulder blades. "I think we're gonna be okay here," she says softly. "We can start over, forget everything that's happened to us."

"How can we forget all that?" I ask. "Everything that's happened to us makes us who we are, Clary. We can't just forget it."

"I know we can't," she says. "I know it's hard to. But we can try. We can have a life here, like normal teenagers. We don't have to fight all the time."

I turn around to face her, wrapping my arms around her. I lean down, kissing her, and mutter, "I love you, Dixon."

"Ditto, Grimes," she replies. Clary takes my hand, and I follow her down the street a little ways, to an empty house. I look down at her as she pulls me around back, grinning. "C'mon," she says. "Let's be normal teenagers."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

It's nearly dark out when Carl and I return to our house, him climbing the stairs first and opening the door. Everyone turns to look as he steps through, scratching the back of his head. "Sorry I was late," he apologizes. "I was... doing stuff."

I walk in behind him, knowing damn well my hair's disheveled, and I keep that smug grin on my face as I say, "I'm stuff."

The others' eyes widen, Glenn nearly choking on his drink as Tara and Rosita crack up laughing, clapping. Daryl and Rick share a look, and I don't miss the look of panic in their eyes. "Oh, shit," Abraham breathes, looking down at Carl. "You might want to run, boy."

"That sounds like a very good suggestion," Carl breathes as Daryl steps forward. Surprisingly enough, he ignores my boyfriend completely and grabs my arm, dragging me outside. I look to Carl for help as I hear someone say, "Laundry duty for a week says Daryl gives her a momma cat smackdown."

"You're on," Abe replies, and Daryl slams the door behind us. He crosses his arms over his chest, glaring down at me, then says, "What the actual fuck, Clary!"

"You're gonna have to be more specific," I say with a sigh.

"What are you even thinking?"

"We're behind walls, Daryl. The walls are stronger than they were at the prison. Walkers ain't gettin' in here. I think we have a chance here, a place to live. Not just survive. Glenn and Maggie can start a life here, hell, a family. Carl and I can be normal teenagers. Like before the shit hit."

Daryl sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus, Clary. Just, don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Okay," I tell him, smiling softly. "It's okay, Daryl." I cross my arms over my chest, mirroring him. "And don't you dare deny that you didn't do the same thing when you were my age. I'm sixteen, you know. Or close to it."

"I know," he sighs. "And that's what scares me."

* * *

I sit with Daryl the next morning, both of us balanced on the railing, leaning against opposite support poles. I stare down the street, looking over when I hear him growl, "Dammit!"

He sticks his finger in his mouth, glaring down at his crossbow. "Piece of shit," he mutters.

"Daryl, stop insulting the inanimate objects," I tell him, then turn as the door opens. Carol steps out, wearing a dress shirt and blue cardigan, very, _very_ different from her normal attire. "The hell?"

"Time to punch the clock and make the casseroles," she says, rather cheerfully.

"What?" Daryl questions.

"Make dinner for the older people," Carol explains. "Moms who need a break, people who can't cook. Get to meet a lot of the neighbors that way."

Daryl scoffs. "All right."

"Have you taken a shower yet?" Carol questions, and I snort. As it turns out, I'm not the one receiving a momma cat smackdown, but Daryl is.

"Mm-hmm," he lies.

Carol looks at him closely, obviously not believing him. "Take a shower. I'm gonna wash that vest. We need to keep up appearances, even you."

"Hey, I ain't startin' now," he retorts as she walks down the steps.

"I'm gonna hose you down in your sleep," she threatens. "Don't think I won't recruit Clary for help."

Carol walks on down the street, Daryl calling after her, "You look ridiculous!"

"Thank you!" she calls back. I snort in amusement at the two, then sigh. "I should get goin'," I say. "Got a run today."

"Be careful," Daryl replies.

"Always am, never are," I say, jumping down from the railing and into the grass. I catch up with Glenn, Tara, and Noah, the others put on the run team, at the end of the street. We head towards the storage room, meeting up with Aiden, Deanna's oldest son and the leader of the run team, and Nicholas, who goes on runs when he's not on gate duty.

"Well, you're Clary," the one in charge says, gesturing around to us as he speaks. "So that means you're Tara. I'm guessing Glenn, and you're Noah. Nice to meet you. I'm Aiden. You met Nicholas pulling gate duty."

Nicholas raises a hand in a wave, and Glenn questions, "You're Deanna's son?"

"That's right," Aiden replies, then looks between Glenn and I. "I hear you two have experience making supply runs. I also hear that you've been working together since the beginning."

Glenn nods once. "I saw your pantry. You guys seem to do pretty well."

"Yeah, well, had some training before this. ROTC. Was nearing lieutenant when this shit blew in."

"My dad did ROTC," Noah tells him.

"He didn't make it?" Aiden questions, and Noah shakes his head.

"Damn, you're blunt," I say.

"I'm sorry." He glances down. "I'm sorry a lot these days." He starts forwards, towards the gate. "C'mon. I'll show you the ropes."

"We're doing a run today?" Tara questions.

"Just a dry run. Show you the terrain outside the walls, see how you do. Weigh each other's sack a little, you know."

She shakes her head, looking unimpressed. "No, I don't, but cool."

"Men and dicks," I mutter, much to Tara's amusement.

"Yeah, that's why I avoid 'em," she mutters. "Like the plague."

"I support your homosexual escapades. Have fun, fuck a girl for me."

"What about weapons?" Glenn inquires, drawing our attention back to the current matter.

"Oh, yeah," Aiden says, grinning. "We pulled out some sweet ass biscuits for today."

He nods back to Nicholas as I look at Tara, questioning, "The hell is a sweet ass biscuit?"

"Beats me," she replies, accepting the gun that Nicholas offers her. He hands over the gun I spoke to Aiden about yesterday, which I strap to my hip and pull my crossbow off my shoulder as the others receive their weapons. Aiden leads us outside the walls, into a forest to the west.

"We've been increasing our radius mile by mile, spreading in a semicircle around the town," Aiden tells us as we wander away from the community.

"We've made it fifty-three miles out so far," Nicholas adds.

"We break into two groups when we step outside our vehicles," Aiden continues as we step into the forest. "If shit hits, we fire a flare. One group gets the other."

"Good system," Noah remarks.

"It is. Still, you're standing here because we lost four people last month."

"What happened?" Glenn inquires.

"We were on a run, roamers came out, and they didn't follow the system."

"They were good people," Nicholas says, looking back at us. "Clary, I think you would've liked one of them."

"You don't know me," I snap before he can continue. "So don't even pretend like you do."

"He's right, though," Aiden says. "They were good people. They were just scared." He glances over his shoulder. "Look, I can be a hard-ass. And I know I'm a douchebag. But someone's got to call the ball around here and that someone is me." He stops walking, turning to face us. "If you're on this crew, you do exactly as I say."

"Sorry you lost your people," Tara tells them.

"Yeah," Aiden says, then smirks. "We got ours."

"Managed to snag one of the deadheads that took 'em down," Nicholas informs us as we continue on. "Strung it up there."

"What?" Glenn and I ask in unison. "Why?"

"We have a little pregame ritual now," Nicholas answers. "Get our heads on straight."

"Remind us what we're up against," the leader's son adds. As we come around a tree, we find a chain, bloodied, but no walker. "Son of a bitch! Help me find it."

"Look at this shit," Nicholas says, looking up at the chain as Aiden removes it from the tree. "Blood's still wet. It's nearby."

I turn to be on the lookout for any walker, then turn as Nicholas lets out a whistle that can probably be heard back at Alexandria. "The hell, man?" I snap, turning to face him. "You tryin' to draw every walker to us?"

"It's gone," Glenn adds, appearing by my side.

"It took down one of our friends," Aiden retorts, turning. "It's nearby. We're not letting it go."

Immediately after Nicholas lets out another whistle, I hear the growling, and turn to see a walker behind Aiden. While the leader of the run team grabs the chains, Nicholas calls it over to him, distracting the dead one. Noah aims his gun, and Nicholas, seeing him out of the corner of his eye, says, "No, don't touch it!"

"The rest of you, back off!" Aiden barks, stepping behind the walker and grabbing its wrists. I draw my knife, starting forward, as the walker turns on Aiden. I catch the walker as he shoves it away from him, dropping my knife in my attempt to hold it off. "Shit!" I cry, as it pushes back against me. "Glenn!"

My Korean sidekick appears, driving his knife into the walker's head as he pulls it off of me. I bend, picking up my switchblade, as Aiden cries, "What the hell?"

"Yeah, what the hell?" Tara echoes, stepping up beside me.

Glenn turns to Aiden, very clearly pissed at him. "You almost got her killed!"

"I told you all to stay back!" Aiden barks. "I told you to listen to every damn thing I said!" He and Glenn stand eye to eye, the Korean glaring at the Alexandrian. "I told you that."

"Glenn," I say, putting my hand on his arm. "Glenn, I'm alright. Back off."

"He almost got you killed!" Glenn snaps.

"He isn't worth it, Glenn."

He looks down at me, then wipes something from my cheek, muttering, "Blood got on you."

"Well, damn, Short Round," I say. "You've seen me covered in guts and _this_ is what you're worried about?"

"C'mon," he says, turning and starting back towards Alexandria. I immediately follow behind him, and Noah and Tara follow closely behind us. Aiden and Nicholas join us, and as we walk back through the gate, Aiden remarks, "You guys need new gigs." We ignore him. "You're not ready for runs yet."

"Yeah, pretty sure you got that backwards," Glenn calls back to him.

"Hey," Aiden says, and I glance over to see him running to catch up to Glenn. "Look, we got a way of doing things around here."

"You tied up walkers," Glenn snaps, facing him.

"It killed our friend," Aiden says, as if that's what you're supposed to do when a walker kills someone. "Look, I'm not having this conversation. You obey my orders out there."

"Then we're just as screwed as your last run crew," Glenn says calmly, but there's fire in his eyes. He's ready and willing to kick Aiden's ass, if need be.

Aiden takes a step closer, eye to eye with Glenn. "Say that again."

"Hey, back off, Aiden," Tara tries.

"Just take a step back," Noah tells them. Aiden doesn't listen, shoving Glenn back, taunting, "Come on, tough guy. Or are you gonna get your bitch to fight your battles?"

Glenn still remains calm, despite the insult thrown towards me. He clenches his fist, but he doesn't throw the first punch. "No one's impressed, man. Walk away."

"Aiden! What is going on?" Deanna demands, arriving on the scene as nearly everyone else in my group arrives.

"Guy's got a problem with the way we do things." He turns to look at him mother. "Why'd you let these people in?"

"Because we actually know what we're doing out there," Glenn answers. Aiden swings a punch that Glenn ducks, then knocks him on his ass. When Aiden starts to get back up, I step in. I punch him in the face, not giving a shit about what the consequences might be of punching the leader's kid. He goes down, and I hear Deanna shouting, "That's enough!"

I don't listen, just punch him again. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Daryl tackle Nicholas to the ground, his hands around the Alexandrian's neck. I press my arm against Aiden's neck, pressing down to block his windpipe. "If you touch them again," I snarl. "If you threaten them again—"

"Clary!" Glenn exclaims. "Hey!"

He tries to pull me off of Aiden, his arms wrapped around my torso. "Clary, dammit!" he says. "Let go!"

Glenn pulls me off of Deanna's son, and he stands, coughing. Aiden starts over, but Michonne stops him. "Wanna end up on your ass again?" she challenges.

Rick pulls Daryl off of Nicholas, who scrambles to his feet, coughing as well. Rick stands between Daryl and the runners, Glenn still holding me back. Deanna looks around, then calls out, "I want everyone to hear me. Rick and his people are part of this community now. In all ways. As equals. Understood?"

At that last part, she turns her hard, cold, Congresswoman glare to Aiden. "Understood," he says, glaring at me.

"Don't think I won't stomp your ass into the ground, you little bastard!" I bark.

"I said, that's enough, Clary," she says, turning to us. "All of you, turn in your weapons." Deanna turns to the runners. "And you two, come talk to me."

As the runners walk off, Glenn releases me. "What the hell was that?" he asks me.

"I told Deanna that when we first came here," I say, "I said that if anyone, anyone at all, tries to hurt my family, I will stomp their sorry ass into the ground. _That's_ what that was."

"Glenn, Clary," Deanna says, and we turn. "Thank you."

"For what?" Glenn inquires.

"For knocking him on his ass." She looks over at me. "Though you could've done without trying to strangle him. And the threats."

"Tell him not to threaten Short Round," I say, turning and walking off.

"Drama queen!" Glenn calls after me.

"Thank you!" I call back, catching up with Daryl down the street. "Nice move, big brother."

"Not so bad yourself," he tells me, glancing down as we walk. "I take it the run went to shit?"

"Understatement," I reply. "Those dumbasses had a walker chained up. Started whistlin' to _find_ it when it got free."

Daryl scoffs. "Rick's right 'bout one thing. It's a good thing we're here."

"Ain't that the truth," I agree as we walk up the steps to the house. After an uneventful evening, I join Daryl on the porch, sitting balanced on a railing, for a late night smoke. I look up as Rick steps out onto the porch, wearing his new constable uniform. "We good?" Rick asks, looking at Daryl.

My brother nods as Carol steps out to join us on the porch. "You a cop again?"

Rick sighs. "I'm tryin' it on for size."

"Just so you know," I say. "I don't do well with police."

Daryl snorts, obviously remembering all the times I was nearly arrested in Bronwood. I actually was arrested a time or two, but they never had enough to press charges, and I walked free.

"I take it we're staying?" Carol inquires.

"I think we can start sleeping in our own homes," Rick answers. "Settle in."

"If we get comfortable here, we let our guard down, this place is gonna make us weak."

"Carl said that. But it's not gonna happen."

"What do you mean?" I ask, watching as he walks over and stands at the railing by me, gazing down the street.

"We won't get weak," he replies. "That's not in us anymore. We'll make it work. And if they can't make it…" Rick turns to look at Daryl, Carol, and I. "Then we'll just take this place."


	10. Forget

_**~Clary~**_

I watch Daryl as he looks around for the walker we've been hearing for the past minute, and he reports, "I don't see it, but it's close. There's just one of them."

He turns back to Carol, Rick, and I, rejoining the secret meaning of those who are willing to overthrow Deanna if they can't make it work. "We won't be here long," Rick says. "So what do you think?"

"We go in when it's empty," Carol says.

"How's that?" Rick inquires. "The armory's locked up at night."

"The window," Carol tells us. "There's just a latch. I can leave it open."

"A latch?"

Carol nods, and Daryl inquires, "What if one of those pricks shut it?"

"Wait a couple of days, leave it open again," I suggest. I glance over my shoulder at the sound of the walker snarling. "It's getting closer."

"We need to do it sooner than later," Rick tells us. "Right now, they're not watching us. Not worrying about meetings like this. We may need the guns, we may not."

"We will," Carol argues. "Whatever way it goes."

Rick sighs. "They're the luckiest damn people I've ever met. And they just keep getting luckier."

"How's that?" Daryl questions.

Our leader shrugs. "We're here now."

"Carol?" I question. "Do you know what they got in there?"

"Couple of footlockers," she answers. "They're full of nine millimeter autos, Rugers, Kel-Tecs. They're just tossed in there. They don't even use them. They're never gonna know they're gone."

"Someone's got one now, right?" Daryl questions, turning to where Rick had hidden a gun, only to find that it has disappeared.

Rick nods slowly. "Listen, the others, we want them to try."

Carol looks at my brother and you. "You, too. Both of you."

"So we keep it quiet. Just us." Rick looks down at me. "No Carl, no Glenn. Got it?"

"Yessir," I answer, turning as the walker we've been hearing appears. "Here it comes."

"I got it," Daryl says, starting towards it.

"No, wait," Carol says, pulling out the gun that she borrowed, lying and saying that Rick was taking her out for target practice. Daryl and I, or the other hand, lied and said we were going hunting. Daryl stands back, and Carol fires a few shots into its body before a final shot to the head. I look at her in confusion, knowing how good of a shot she is. "We said we were taking me out shooting. I couldn't go back with a full mag."

"Lucky he came by," Daryl remarks.

"We should get back," Rick says, and we start back towards the community. "You'll pull the latch, we'll pick our moment. We don't need to be lucky."

I glance down at the walker as I pass, stopping in my tracks as I notice something unusual on its forehead. "The hell is that?" I ask.

"Is that a W?" Daryl inquires, looking at it over my shoulder.

"Yeah," Rick says, looking over at us.

"You think it means something?" Carol asks.

"It's gotta," I answer. "I don't know what. But it means something." I look up at Carol and Rick. "Y'all should get back. We're gonna get huntin'."

"See you later, then," Carol says, joining Rick as they start back towards Alexandria. Daryl and I start off in the opposite direction, walking for a while and seeing absolutely no fresh tracks. We look at each other as leaves rustle, and Daryl steps in front of me as we raise our crossbows. He calls, "Come out! Now!"

A figure steps out from the trees, and I lower my crossbow. "Aaron?"

"You can tell the difference between walkers and humans by sound?" Aaron inquires, looking at Daryl. My brother's silent, glaring at him. "Can you tell the difference between a good guy and a bad guy? Rick doesn't seem to be an expert at that."

"There ain't much of a difference no more," my brother says.

"That how you feel about your people?"

"Why you following us?"

Aaron chuckles softly. "I didn't know I was. I came out to hunt rabbits. I know why you two are out here. Mind if I join?"

Daryl turns and walks off, and I give Aaron a small smile. Hell, as much as I hate to admit it, he's started to grow on me. "Keep up and stay quiet," I tell him, hurrying to catch up to my brother.

Daryl leads the way through the woods, stopping in his tracks when a horse neighs. He turns to look at me, and I ask, "You hear the horse, too, right?"

"Yeah," he says slowly. The three of us step towards the clearing in the trees, seeing a black horse amidst the weeds.

Aaron chuckles softly seeing the horse, glancing over at us as he says, "I've been trying to catch him for months, bring him inside. His name is Buttons." Daryl and I look over at him. "One of the kids saw him run by the gate a while back. Thought he looked like a Buttons. I haven't seen him for a while. I was afraid I was too late." I put my crossbow on my back as Aaron digs in his bag for a rope. "Every time Eric or I come close, he gets spooked."

I take the rope from his hands, and Aaron looks at me in surprise. "Have you done this before?"

"Our group did," Daryl answers for me. "But they weren't out there that long. The longer they're out there, the more they become what they really are."

I start forward, carefully stepping to avoid snapping any sticks, and I glance over my shoulder as I realize how close Daryl is behind me. "Easy there," I whisper to him. "I'm okay, Daryl."

He holds up a hand in apology, dropping back as I continue forward, turning my attention towards the horse. Buttons shuffles on his feet, and I say, "Easy. I ain't gonna hurt you. Alright?" I take a few steps closer. "C'mon, boy." He drops his head, grazing. "Just keep on eatin'. There you go." I shuffle closer, looking him over. "You used to be somebody's, huh? Someone always loomin' over ya. Yeah, buddy, me, too. Now you're just yours, huh? That must be the life."

I get close enough where I could hook the rope around his neck, but I drop the it, swinging myself onto Button's back. The horse skitters, but doesn't throw me. "Got 'em," I tell Aaron and Daryl, smiling.

"I taught you that move," Daryl retorts, but smiles softly. A twig snaps, and Buttons neighs nervously. I shush him, gently stroking his neck. Then, I see the walkers coming from my right. Daryl cries, "Shit!"

He and Aaron run forward, and the sudden movement, combined with Daryl's cry and the appearance of the walkers, spooks the horse. He neighs, rearing up. "Shit!" I cry as I'm thrown from the horse.

I hear Daryl cry my name as I hit the ground, stunned. I hear the silenced gunshots from Aaron's rifle, and the two quickly take down the walkers. One that managed to sneak past them appears over me, and I let out a yelp of surprise as it falls on top of me. I throw my hands up, holding it off, and cry, "Aaron!"

I close my eyes as a bullet makes its way through the walkers head, and its ripped off of me. Aaron pulls me to my feet, asking, "Are you alright?"

"Clary!" Daryl rushes, arriving by Aaron's side. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," I answer, rubbing my shoulder. "Damn, I'm just glad there wasn't a cliff again."

Aaron looks over at Daryl, concern in his eyes, then back at me. "You sure you're not hurt?"

"I'm okay," I repeat, then turn my attention to Aaron. "Thanks to you, anyway."

"C'mon," Daryl huffs, grabbing my hand and pulling me in the direction the horse went. I grab Aaron's hand, pulling him with us. We slow down a few minutes later, breaking apart. "You ride horses?" Aaron inquires.

"I ride bikes," Daryl replies.

"I take it you don't mean ten speeds." I look at him over my shoulder, grinning. "I know you're both feeling like outsiders."

"Oh no," Daryl says. "You said the thing."

"What thing?" Aaron inquires.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy," I say, looking back at him. "Stay gold."

"That's the thing," Daryl confirms.

"Wow," Aaron says, shaking his head. "Just, wow. But it's not your fault, you know. Eric and I, we're still looked at as... out _casts_ in a lot of ways. We've heard our fair share of well-meaning but hilariously offensive things from some otherwise really nice men and women."

"Homophobic assholes," I mutter.

"No, they're not. They mean well, I know they do. Hey, people are people. The more afraid they get, the more stupid they get. Fear shrinks the brain."

"Stupid gets you killed."

"You know, they're scared of you and me for different reasons. They're less scared of me because they know me. It's less and less every day. So let them get to know you. You should go to Deanna's party tonight. Both of you."

"I got nothin' to prove," Daryl remarks, then gestures to me over his shoulder. "Hell, I'd spend my time makin' sure this one doesn't sneak off with her boyfriend."

"Hey!" I cry.

"We don't need any Grimes-Dixon babies runnin' 'round. God, the two of you are enough."

"Now you're just being an asshole." Quietly, I add, "You know I can't have kids. Mom saw to that before I was born."

Behind us, Aaron coughs, trying to cover up his laughter, which immediately fades when he hears my statement. "In all seriousness," Daryl says, glancing back at Aaron. "I've got nothing to prove. I met a lot of bad people out here doing a lot of bad shit. They weren't afraid of nothing."

"Yeah, they were," Aaron argues. A few minutes later, we come to another clearing, this one surrounded by a fence, as Buttons enters it. I say, "We gotta move quick. He's pinned in with them."

"I got the far ones," Daryl volunteers, and heads towards the farthest walkers. Aaron and I start forward, and I draw my knife, taking out one easily. I hear him cry out, and turn to find him on the ground, a walker holding onto his leg. He sits up as I run over, cutting the walker's hand off to free himself. I arrive to stomp its head in, blood splattering across the grass. I grab the walker beside me, driving my knife into its head and letting it drop to the ground. Aaron thanks me as I pull him to his feet, and I say, "We're even, man. No problem."

We catch up to Daryl, where he stands atop the small hill, silent. "Daryl?" I ask as we slow down, stopping beside him. "What's goin—oh."

We're silent as we see the walkers surrounding Buttons, grabbing his legs and knocking him down. He whinnies in freight and pain as they surround him, tearing into him. Daryl draws his knife, saying, "I got the ones on the right."

"I'll take the left," I add, joining him as he steps forward. Aaron follows us, and we quickly and quietly take out the dead, Daryl finishing up one that Aaron missed. I look down at the horse, saddened to find that he's still alive. "Go ahead," Daryl says, stepping away to pick up his dropped crossbow.

Silently, Aaron aims his rifle and fires, putting the horse out of his misery. He sighs, saying, "He always ran."

"You were tryin' to help him," Daryl says, turning and heading back the way we came.

I place a hand on Aaron's arm, softly saying, "I'm sorry, Aaron. C'mon, let's go home."

He follows me in silence as we head back towards Alexandria, still about an hour before sunset when we return home. As we walk down our street, stopping at Aaron's, he asks me, "Are you going to go?"

I sigh, looking down. "I don't know, man. People ain't my strong suit." I look up at him. "But I'll try."

* * *

When I ring the doorbell, a dark haired man about thirty answers the door. "You must be Clary," he says with a bit of a grin. "Aiden told me about you."

"Oh, great," I sigh.

"I'm Spencer Monroe," he tells me, reaching to shake my hand. When I don't comply, he steps aside to allow me in. In one corner, I see Abraham and Rosita, and give them a small smile before searching for Glenn or Carl. I find my boyfriend talking to Ron and Mikey in another corner, and walk over to join them. "Whoa," Carl breathes. "You clean up well."

"Shut up," I mumble, taking his hand and stepping closer to him. He leans over, kissing me, then pulls back when Glenn sends a very loud "GET A ROOM, YOU TWO!" our way. I tell Carl, "I'm gonna go get a drink."

"Don't do anything stupid," he replies.

I scoff as I turn to walk away. "Please, Cowboy. When have I ever done anything stupid?"

I run into Abraham on my way to the table with drinks, and he grins seeing me. He grabs two beers, passing one over to me, and says, "Take your fill, darlin'."

"Sounds real good, Red," I reply, taking a swig. I don't miss the stares I get from the adults around me, and I'm suddenly extremely uncomfortable here. I mean, I was never comfortable coming to this in the first place, but now with everyone looking at me, I wish I never came. I hand my beer to Abe, muttering, "Finish it off for me."

"Lightweight?" he questions.

"I just gotta get outta here," I say, turning and heading for the door. I push through the crowd on my way, the door seeming farther away than ever. I run into Daryl down the street, and he looks down at me. "What's wrong?" he questions. "Whose ass do I need to stomp?"

"No one's," I reply. "C'mon. It's nothin' like our kind of parties."

"So we're ditchin', then?" Daryl asks, and I nod. He throws his arm around my shoulders as we walk down the street. He ruffles my hair, and I try to lean away from him. "Stop it, Daryl!" I whine. "You're messing up my hair!" He rubs my head again. "Daryl!"

My brother pulls me into a one arm headlock, using his free hand to rub his knuckles against my head, knowing how much I hate it, just to piss me off. "Daryl!" I whine, but laugh.

He grins as I duck out from under his arm, running up the street a ways. We both laugh as he chases me up the street, catching me and picking me up so my feet leave the ground. "Daryl!"

I try to make it sound like I'm complaining, but I'm too busy laughing. Daryl laughs as he demands, "Surrender."

"Never," I reply, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Clary!" he whines, mocking me. "Surrender, Clars."

"Fine," I sigh. "You win."

"That's what I thought," he huffs. We turn as there's laughter from a nearby porch to find Aaron standing there, grinning. Realizing we saw him, he says, "Oh, hey."

"Thought you were goin' to that party back there," Daryl says, releasing his hold on me.

"Oh, I was never going to go 'cause of Eric's ankle," he tells us. "Thank God for that."

"Why the hell you'd tell us to go, then?" I question.

"I said try. You did. It's a thought that counts thing."

"Alright," Daryl says, and we turn to leave.

"Hey!" Aaron says, and we turn back to look at him. "Come in. Have some dinner. Come on, man. It's some pretty serious spaghetti."

He turns and walks in without waiting to see if we follow. "Daryl?" I ask, noticing his hesitation.

"Your call," Daryl finally says, looking down at me.

"Then, c'mon," I say, taking his hand and leading him up the steps. "Aaron's one of the good guys."

Aaron smiles upon seeing us enter, setting two more plates on the kitchen table. Eric greets us with a smile, and I glance up at Daryl as Aaron puts the spaghetti on the table. "This," I say softly. "This is where we belong. With the outsiders, 'cause we're outsiders, too. And that ain't never gonna change."

"C'mon," he says, stepping towards the table. "I'm starvin'."

Daryl takes a seat next to Eric, opposite of me, and I sit in the chair beside Aaron. I glance over the table at Eric as Aaron dishes out pasta, and I ask, "How's the ankle?"

"Good as it can be," he replies, good naturedly and smiling as I've come to expect of him. I thank Aaron as he hands me a plate, and he smiles in reply. We eat, the only sound being Daryl slurping his spaghetti. I kick his leg underneath the table, and he glances up at me, then looks at Aaron, saying, "Thanks."

As my brother slurps a noodle, I look at the others, saying, "I apologize for him."

"Wow," Daryl says. "Rude."

"I'm just callin' it like I see it," I say with a shrug, earning a laugh out of Eric.

"Oh," Eric says, as though he's suddenly remembering something, turning to look at Daryl. "When you're out there, if you happen to be in a store or something, Mrs. Neudermyer is really looking for a pasta maker. And we're all really trying to get her to shut up about it. I mean, we have crates of dried pasta in here, but she wants to make her own or something. I really think she just wants something to talk about, so if you see one out on your travels, it would go a long way to—"

"Eric," Aaron says suddenly, cutting his boyfriend off.

"Oh. I thought it was done. You didn't ask him already?"

Aaron shakes his head, and I find myself sliding my hand across the table, reaching for Daryl's. My brother inquires, "Ask me what?"

"I'll explain everything later," Aaron tells him. Noticing my uneasiness, he places a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright, Clary." He gestures to the spaghetti on my plate. "Eat. I'll explain everything after dinner."

Daryl and I share a look before we continue eating. Aaron leans over to me, whispering, "You're way too skinny, Clary."

"Food always goes to the rest of the group first," I reply, taking a small bite while Daryl wolfs his down. As the others finish, I push the rest of mine onto Aaron's plate, asking him, "Finish it off, will you?"

Daryl frowns, Eric looks at me with sympathy, and Aaron closes his eyes, looking down. After a moment, he says, "I guess that means we're a part of the group, now?"

I freeze at that, slowly looking up at him. "I suppose so."

"So what'd you want to ask me?" Daryl inquires, leaning forward onto the table.

Aaron gets to his feet, saying, "Come with me."

Daryl follows him, and I join the two after a moment. He opens a door, and I follow Daryl into their garage. I look around at all the motorcycle parts. This explains why Aaron was asking my brother about bikes earlier. Aaron steps in with us, gesturing to a frame under a tarp. "When I got the place, there was that frame and some parts and equipment. Whoever lived here built them."

"It's a lot of parts for one bike," Daryl remarks, picking up a headlight.

I scoff at his rather obvious statement, and Aaron explains, "Whenever I came across any parts out there, I brought them back. I didn't know what I need. I always thought I'd learn how to do it, but I get the feeling you already know what to do with it." I follow Daryl across the garage, looking down at the frame underneath the tarp. "And the thing is, you're going to need a bike."

We look at each other, then up at Aaron in confusion. My brother questions, "Why?"

"I told Deanna not to give you a job because I think I have one for you," he explains. "I'd like you to be Deanna's other recruiter. I don't want Eric risking his life anymore."

I step closer to Daryl, who wraps his arm around me, sensing my uneasiness. He accuses Aaron, "You want me riskin' mine, right?"

"Yeah, because you know what you're doing. You're good out there. But you don't belong out there. I know it's hard getting used to people getting used to you. And I understand right now you need to be out there sometimes. So do I. But the main reason why I want you to help me recruit is because you do know the difference between a good person and a bad person. You both do." He turns to me. "Clary, I was going to ask you, too, but Deanna told me she didn't want you going out there."

"Who the hell is she to tell me what I can and can't do?" I snap, watching Daryl out of the corner of my eye as I turn to Aaron.

"Clary," Aaron says softly, hands forward as if anticipating my behavior. "Believe me when I say this, I told her that nothing would stop you from going out there. You're good out here, and you don't fit in when you're inside the walls. That's why she put you on the run team, and I told her how well you and Glenn work together. I originally wanted you to come with us."

"Stay safe while I'm out there, alright?" Daryl asks, looking down at me, then up at Aaron. "I got nothin' else to do. Thanks." Aaron nods once. "I'll get you some rabbits."

He laughs. "Great."

As Daryl starts out of the garage, I follow him, then stop by Aaron. "When you're out there," I say, looking up at him as Daryl leaves. "Don't let him do stupid things. He's gonna try to save some people. Risk his life for people that won't do the same for him. Just, don't let him. Bring him back to me." I close my eyes, hanging my head. "I can't lose my big brother."

* * *

By the time the second secret meeting rolls around, Carol's finished her mission of stealing weapons. She pulls them out of her bag, telling us, "Take your pick."

"Look, I've been thinking," Daryl rushes, wanting to get what he wants to say in before we take the weapons. "Do we really need these? I mean, things go bad, yeah, sure. We do what we gotta do, but it's like you said. We don't need these for that."

"Right now we don't," Carol interjects.

My brother turns to her. "You wanted me to try, right? I'm good."

Rick takes a small revolver from Carol, and she turns to me. I reach forward, then hesitate. "He's right." I withdraw my hand, stepping back with my brother. "I ain't gonna take one. I think we can make this place work without havin' to take it, but I don't wanna be caught with a stolen gun. I can't risk gettin' kicked out again." I close my eyes, looking down, as I think about how I'm actually defying one of Rick's orders. "I'm sorry, Rick. But I can't abandon my family again. For once, I won't do what you want."


	11. Spend

**Oh my god so I started writing the season six fic early. This past Sunday, I spent a good majority of the day writing the finale. I used the comic book dialogue and I almost cried writing the final line.**

* * *

 ** _~Glenn~_**

As we load up the van for the run, Noah stands with Eugene, trying to get him to take a gun. Due to a problem with a part in the solar panels, the power's been going out recently. Eugene figured out what it was, and now we're off to a supply warehouse to get the new parts.

Eugene tries to get out of going, saying that the part is consistent in shape, and he shuts up when Clary leaves my side, taking the gun from Noah and shoving it into his hands. "Take the damn gun, Eugene," she snaps. "You're comin' with us."

I walk back over to the storage house, stopping Tara as she passes with a final bag. "That's everything?" I ask, and she nods. "Alright."

Maggie turns to me, asking, "All set?"

"Mm-hmm," I reply.

"You got this. You always do."

"Yeah," I say with a small smile, leaning forward to kiss her.

"You ready, Short Round?" Clary asks, stepping up beside me as I pull away from Maggie. I nod, and Maggie pulls her into one armed hug, kissing her cheek. "Whoa, Mag. What's that for?"

"You know I worry about you," Maggie says, rubbing Clary's arm. "Stay safe, okay?"

Clary nods once, joining me as we head for the van for the run. "Powergrid was a prototype," Reg, Deanna's husband, says, stopping us. "Surprised it took this long to start acting up."

"We'll get it going," I assure him.

"Daylight's burning!" Aiden calls from the driver's seat. "Let's go!"

Deanna steps up, looking up at me, and says, "I know I said it before, but thank you."

"He threatened Clary, insulted her," I tell her. "I would've knocked him on his ass either way."

"Alright, Cujo," Clary says, taking my arm. "Let's go."

I follow her into the van, joining Noah, Eugene, and Tara in the back while Nicholas climbs in the front with Aiden. Tara asks Noah, "So seriously, what's her story?"

"Who, Holly?" Clary asks, looking up from where she's fixing a silencer to her gun. Tara nods, and Noah's reply is drowned out by techno music blaring from the speakers. He sighs, "Great. Another mix."

"Hey, the last one had Fall Out Boy," Clary says. "Don't hate."

"Helps draw the walkers away," I add.

"What can you do other than sit and bear it?"

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

Just for the record, I hate techno music. There's no badass guitar riff, no bass drum beating in your chest. No heavy metal breaking your heart. There's no real meaning behind the lyrics. That's why when we finally arrive at the warehouse, I'm incredibly relieved when Aiden shuts that god awful mixtape off. "Everyone out," he orders, looking over his shoulder at us.

We climb out of the van, and Aiden and Nicholas join us at the back, the group loading their weapons. "That's it there?" Tara inquires, looking up at the large building near us.

"That's the warehouse," Aiden confirms, following her gaze. He gestures to the side door. "Looks like that door right there is our fastest way in and out."

"We should know all the exits first," Glenn objects. "So there's a plan if things go south."

"He's right," I agree, jumping to his aid before the others can argue. "You know what they say. When in doubt, know your way out. We need a backup."

"Already got one," Nicholas tells us. "It's called goin' out the front."

"And what if we can't?" I question. "Then what?"

"Then we figure something else out."

"Noah, heads up," Tara warns, and I turn as I hear a walker snarling. I reach for my gun, but Noah beats me to it, taking it down with a single headshot.

"Look at you with the aim," Aiden says, grinning as he hands Noah a rifle. "They're right. We should do a perimeter check. Know our exits just in case. Can't argue with the _Zombieland_ rules."

I chuckle humorlessly. "How the hell do you think I'm still alive? It's a dumbass movie, but hell, they got the rules right."

I turn and join Glenn and Noah as they head around the building, catching up with them as Glenn says, "That was pretty good aim back there."

"Target practice helped," Noah replies, then chuckles. "Last week, I was gettin' pretty close to practicing on Aiden."

Glenn laughs. "Yeah, me too."

"Aww," I say with a bit of a laugh, nudging his arm with my shoulder. "Protective Short Round."

He laughs softly, but it fades when we hear the snarling. We step up to the fence separating us from the front of the building, seeing the many walkers stumbling around. He remarks, "Well, we're not going out the front."

"Gonna need a Plan C," Noah says.

"Or D," I say. "For Dumbass."

"You really don't like them, do you?"

"Not at all. C'mon." The two follow me as we head back to the others, shaking our heads before they can even ask us if we can go out the front. I gesture up to the side door. "Look's like that's our only way in."

"Then let's get this over with," Aiden says, raising his rifle as Glenn leads the way up the steps. He opens the door, knife raised, and Aiden stands behind him, ready to shoot anything that moves. Glenn pounds on the door, waiting a few seconds to see if anything appears. "It's a big place," he says. "There could be some inside."

"So let's say there are," Aiden replies. "Let's move. Let's be safe."

"Alright," Glenn says with a nod, drawing his gun as he flips on his flashlight. We file in, guns (or crossbow, in my case) and flashlights raised, checking each aisle for the dead. We each take an aisle at a time, and I sigh when I realize Nicholas is following me. I pause a little over halfway down it, shushing Nicholas when he starts to ask why I stopped. I look over at Glenn, Noah, and Aiden in the aisle next to us, asking, "You hear that?"

"They're stuck behind something," Glenn whispers.

"How do you know?" Aiden inquires.

"I don't."

"They'd be here by now," I answer. "They're stuck, 'cause they ain't here. Keep your eyes open. Be ready."

We continue on, Nicholas and I rejoining them at the end of the aisle. I jump, and Glenn and I turn at a sudden rattle and growl. He shines his flashlight on a walker, blocked by a fence, and the others behind it wander towards us due to the flashlight. "Aside from that, this place is clear," Glenn says, shining his light over the fence.

"You know your stuff," Aiden remarks.

"We were out there a long time," Tara replies.

"There could be more," Glenn says.

"Then, let's get to work," I say.

Tara shines her flashlight on Eugene, who stands behind her, and tells him, "You're up."

"Time to work for a livin', Rock of Ages," I say, following Glenn off through the aisles, Noah by our side. A few minutes later, Tara calls, "We found 'em!"

We step up to look at them through the space between aisles, Glenn complementing, "Alright, Eugene!"

I turn at the sound of a walker, tapping Glenn's arm to get his attention. I glance over at Aiden as I hear silenced gunshots, but they don't do anything. "It's got armor," Glenn tells him. "Let it come closer."

"I got it," Aiden argues. He shoots it in the foot, knocking it down. He continues to fire, not making any progress, and Glenn looks at it between boxes. He sees it at the same time I do, and he cries, "Aiden, stop!" He ignores him, and Glenn shouts, "Stop!"

Too late. The last thing I see is an explosion, and everything goes black.

* * *

I groan as I come around, and find that I'm unable to move. Something fell on top of me, probably after the explosion. "Oh my god," I hear Nicholas say. "He's dead."

My heart starts to race as I hear that, fearing that it's Glenn. I try to move out from under whatever's on top of me, trying to find him, but it hurts to move. "Glenn," I moan.

"Clary!" Glenn cries from somewhere off to my right. Whatever was on top of me shifts, and I cry out as it presses down on my arm. "Nicholas!" Glenn cries. "It's crushing her! Get your ass over here!" After a moment, he barks, "Now!"

Nicholas helps Glenn push whatever was pinning me off, and I'm gently lifted up, one arm under my back. "Clary," Glenn says, gently tapping my cheek. "Hey, wake up. I need you to wake up." I open my eyes, and find him looking down at me, obviously worried. "Hey, stay awake."

Glenn gently taps my cheek to keep me awake, and I open my eyes again. Glenn puts my crossbow on his back, picking me up. I put my arms around his neck as he calls, "Noah! Eugene! Tara!"

He turns to find Noah right behind us, and the teenager flinches at the light in his face. "You guys good?" he asks.

"I'm good," Glenn tells him, and I nod once. I look past Noah at the walkers stumbling forward, and Glenn says, "The cage is open. They're getting out. We need to find—"

"Over here!" Eugene suddenly calls, and we hurry over to him. He looks down at something on the floor, and Glenn shines his flashlight on an injured Tara, bleeding from her head. "Is she breathing?" I ask. "Eugene!"

"I can't tell from right here," the fake scientist replies.

"Then move your ass and check," I snap at him, while Nicholas calls, "They're getting close!"

"Walker!" Eugene says, the fear of the dead evident in his voice. We're blocked from going to help him, and even if we could, Glenn's preoccupied with carrying me. "It's yours," Glenn says. "Take it out, Eugene."

He raises his gun, his hands shaking terribly, but he never has a chance to fire. A second walker appears right behind him, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him to the ground. Eugene drops his gun, trying to hold the dead one off. Glenn nearly drops me to the ground, leaping over one of the boxes to help. Noah pulls me to my feet, and I nearly fall against him. "Get on my back," he says, turning around and kneeling.

I jump up on his back, wrapping my legs around his waist as he goes around the other way. We arrive as Glenn fires on the other walker, climbing back over the boxes to Tara. "Get to the office," he orders us. "I've got Tara."

I groan as Noah jostles me around, not nearly as gentle as Glenn is, and he apologizes immediately. We meet Nicholas at the door, Glenn barely making it in with Tara before the walkers arrive. Noah deposits me on the floor, throwing shit off of the desk so Glenn has a place to lay Tara. Eugene steps up, looking her over. I get to my feet, leaning on Glenn for support, and I ask, "How's she doin'?"

"She has serious head trauma," Eugene responds. "She's losing blood fast."

"How do we stop it?" Noah questions.

"Med kit was in Aiden's pack," Nicholas says. "It got blown to hell."

"There's another one in the van," Glenn points out.

"She's on her way out," Eugene rushes. "We need to get her there."

"Alright, we'll get her there," Glenn says.

" _Help! Somebody!"_

"Oh, my god," I whisper, recognizing the voice.

"Oh, Jesus," Nicholas sighs.

I follow Glenn and Nicholas to the window in the office, looking out across the warehouse to where Aiden is, impaled on a forklift. "He's alive?"

"I checked him," Nicholas says. "I thought…"

"We've gotta get him," Noah says, joining us.

"It's gonna take all of us," I say, looking around at the three men beside me. I turn back to Eugene. "'gene, we got that kind of time?"

"If we pull him off of there, we could kill him," Nicholas says, his voice shaking.

"So you're saying we leave him?" Noah questions.

"Eugene!" I bark, as he still hasn't answered me.

"Go, save him," he finally says, looking up. "She'd save him. I know she would. I'll stay with her. I'll keep her safe, I assure you. I will." He turns his gaze to me. "On my life, I'll keep her safe."

"You'd better," I threaten him.

"Alright, we'll knock 'em back," Glenn says, then looks over at Nicholas. "You still have that flare?" He nods, starting for the door. "You fire the flare over the shelves. That'll draw some of them over." He looks at Noah and I. "We're gonna hit the rest hand to hand. You ready?"

"Yeah," Noah says, and Nicholas nods. _C'mon, Dixon. Get your shit together. Time to work._ I flip out my switchblade, nodding once at Glenn. He counts down from three, then throws open the door, knocking down two walkers in the process. Nicholas pushes past, firing a flare off to the opposite end of the warehouse. We follow him out, closing the door behind us. We take out any that come near us, arriving at Aiden on the forklift. He groans, nearly sobbing in pain. Nicholas and Glenn go to help him, while Noah and I take watch. I hear Glenn tell him, "Hey, it's gonna be okay. We're gonna get you out of here. Alright, everything's gonna be okay. I need you to stay quiet. Can you do that?"

I glance over my shoulder as Aiden nods, whimpering in pain. Glenn and Nicholas each take a side, trying to pull him off. They don't even move him an inch before he screams in pain. "The flare!" Noah says. "It's burning out."

"Come on," Glenn says, trying to get Nicholas's attention. "Come on, again."

Nicholas shakes his head. "We're not gonna make this."

"Hey, yes we are. But I need your help. You can do this."

"Nick," Aiden says, reaching for Nicholas's arm. "Don't leave me."

"Okay," Nicholas says, and I turn back as Noah fires at the walkers that we can see. Aiden groans but doesn't cry out as they try to lift him off of the forklift. Nicholas backs into me, apologizing as he backs away. He turns and runs, and I step up to Glenn and Aiden. "C'mon," I say, looking up at Aiden. "We're gonna get you off. Now!"

He cries out as we tug, but he won't budge. Aiden grabs Glenn's arm, telling him, "Stop. Stop, stop!"

"They're coming!" Noah announces, and we ignore him, still trying to save Aiden.

I look down at my gun, then back at Aiden. "We panicked," he says, looking at Glenn and I. "The ones we lost. It was us. It was because we panicked. It wasn't them. It's our fault they're dead. Sebastian, Will, Alex, James. It's our fault they're dead." He looks at me, and sees the gun. "Please."

"Sebastian?" I repeat. "Seb was here? Alex, too?"

"Clary, we gotta go!" Glenn cries.

"You bastard!" I snap at Aiden. "I should let you here for them."

I suddenly raise my gun and fire, knowing that Sebastian wouldn't approve of me leaving Aiden there for the dead. "You son of a bitch," I sneer at his body.

"They're here!" Noah barks while Glenn barks, "Come on!"

I turn and follow Glenn and Noah, taking out walkers in the front lobby. I see Nicholas duck into the revolving door, and Glenn takes my arm, pulling me in with him and Noah. Walkers crowd the two unoccupied sections, struggling to get in. We push back against them, and they try to claw their way in.

"Maybe we could shoot past them!" Nicholas yells to us. "You have the guns!"

"You have the ammo!" Glenn calls back.

"We've gotta do something, man! We're dying here!"

"There has to be another way," Noah says. It's then that I hear the blaring music, Black Sabbath's "Die Young" now playing on the mixtape, coming from the van. Eugene is actually saving our asses.

"Hey!" he shouts. "Over here! Come get me!" The walkers turn away from the door, towards him. "Get in, losers! We're going shooting!"

I can't help but laugh at his version of the _Mean Girls_ quote. He honks the horn, and the walkers outside stumble away from us and towards him. "Come on, Eugene!" Glenn chuckles.

"That's it, Eugene!" I cry, even though I know he can't hear me. Eugene clears one side, but I notice a problem. We can't open one door without exposing the other to the walkers inside. "Hey, Nicholas!" Glenn calls, pounding on the glass. "Hey! Keep the door steady, okay? I'm gonna break the glass. We get out, you push out. We get the rifle, we're good. Alright? Ready?"

Glenn hits the glass with the butt of his rifle, but the glass doesn't break. "Stop!" Nicholas shouts, and I see the door on his side is partially open. "Stop! It's not safe!"

Noah pushes the door closed, while Glenn faces Nicholas. "This is the only way."

"No, it's not going to break," Nicholas argues.

"It will!" Noah says. "It can."

"Trust me, okay," Glenn says. "On the count of three. One... two... three!"

Glenn goes to hit it again, but before he can, Nicholas pushes it open. The runner jams his foot in the opening, keeping it open. We try to push back, but he manages to get out. He doesn't stay to help us, but instead turns and runs like he did with Aiden. Noah suddenly yells, and I see a walker grabbing his ankle. Glenn and I grab his hands, falling to the ground with him. "Don't let go," Noah says, latching onto our hands. "Don't let go."

"I won't let go," I promise him, looking into his dark eyes. Glenn and I struggle to hold onto Noah, the walkers pulling him, and he kicks at the undead. His hand slips from mine, and I grab for it again. Before I can, the walkers pull him out, and Glenn loses his grip. We scramble to pull him back in, but the walkers have him. The door closes, locking Glenn and I in the revolving door. "No!" we scream. "Noah!"

We can only watch in horror as the walkers tear into Noah, his blood staining the unbreaking glass. Glenn sinks back, curling up in a ball. He covers his ears, trying to block out Noah's screams. I hit the door, as if it'll help Noah. I mean to scream "Noah!" but somehow, I end up screaming, "Sam!"

Not long after my slip up, the screams that I've heard too many times stop. I try not to think about how his body lies just on the other side of the glass, being devoured by walkers. I fall to my knees in front of the glass, looking at Noah's body through the bloodstained glass as I rest my forehead on it. I raise a shaking hand, resting it near Noah's on the other side. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm so sorry, Sammy. I did it again. I let go."

"Clary," Glenn manages, his voice broken. I turn to see him shaking, nearly crying. He reaches a hand out towards me, shaking so badly he has trouble gripping mine. As soon as he has a solid grip, he pulls me over to him, tightly wrapping his arms around me. "Clary," he whimpers. "He's gone."

He leans into me, his forehead at the base of my neck. I'm reminded of that night at the quarry, when Glenn ran around camp, looking for me, after he had a dream of me dying. I tried to comfort him, but this time, I don't. "Glenn," I say, tilting his head up so he looks at me. "We gotta go, Glenn. There's nothin' we can do for him now."

Glenn close his eyes, tears leaking out of them. I wipe them away, kissing his forehead. "C'mon, Glenn," I whisper. "I need your head in the game. There'll be time to mourn later. C'mon, get your ass up."

He listens to me, and stands. "Ready?" he asks, his voice shaking.

"Let's go," I reply, and we push open the door. We run out, taking down any walker that gets too close. We run the way the van went, and arrive to see Nicholas facing off with Eugene. He shoves Eugene out of the way to climb in the van, and he falls to the ground. I grab the back of Nicholas' shirt, pulling him back. I throw a punch that sends him to the ground, then sit on top of him, my knees pinning his arms down. I keep punching the cowardly bastard, ignoring Glenn telling me to stop. I pause, looking down at his bloody face. "I should beat you to death, you motherfuckin' coward," I growl. "You better thank Mikey for still bein' 'live, 'cause he's the only reason I'm stoppin'. Next time, I won't. I'll beat you to death, Nick. I'll beat you to death."

Glenn grabs my arm, pulling me off of the barely-conscious Nicholas. We get into the van, Glenn driving and me in the passenger seat. Eugene sits behind us, watching over Tara and keeping a watchful eye on Nicholas.

I sit on the passenger seat, my crossbow on the floor below me. I sit with my legs pulled up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. We drive in silence for a long time, until Glenn finally says, "I get it now."

 _I get it now._

I can hear Beth saying it, and the gun going off. I can hear Maggie's scream of anguish when she saw her dead little sister, hanging limp in my big brother's arms.

I look back over at Glenn, half of my mind still on the events at Grady, the other half wondering what Glenn now gets. "What?" I ask, unable to stop the uneasiness, almost shaking of my voice.

"Trying to save someone," he says, reaching over to take my hand. "A good friend. Someone younger than you, a little inexperienced in this world."

"Are you talkin' about Sophia?" I whisper, staring at him.

"I said that it wasn't your fault. What happened to Sophia, it really wasn't. But, what happened to Noah, that's on me." He closes his eyes, close to sobbing. "It's on me."

"Hey, eyes on the road," I tell him. He opens his dark eyes, looking ahead at the road. "Stop the car, Glenn. I'm drivin'."

Glenn obeys, sliding over to my seat while I get out and go around to the driver's side. I drive with my left hand on the wheel, reaching over to take Glenn's hand with my right. I glance at him, then look back at the road. "People sayin' that it ain't your fault's bullshit, Glenn. And you know it. I know it won't change your mind. You'll always think that there's somethin' else you coulda done. Whatever the scenario, you're always gonna think that it's your fault. It's been two years, and I still remember the day Sam died. The day Sophia walked out of that barn."

I look over at Glenn to find him looking back at me. He asks, "Is it the same when you kill?"

"Depends on who you kill," I reply. "But, no matter what, you still remember killin'. Hell, it's been two years and I still remember the girl in Room 9. She was innocent, didn't deserve any of the shit that happened to her. Unlike the Governor. I was the one that finished it, the final shot. He was lyin' there, slowly bleedin' out after Michonne made a shish-kabob outta him. I put a bullet through his head. Made sure the bastard was dead. Ding dong, he was." I look back over to Glenn. "Anymore, you can't afford care too much. The more you care, the more you have to lose."


	12. Try

_**~Clary~**_

When I was young, before this all started, I never envisioned myself as a soldier. Or as a warrior. I never thought about joining the military. I was just trying not to get arrested so Daryl wouldn't have to bail me out. Now, I'm none of that. I've become a soldier, a weapon. I'm not proud of the red in my ledger, but goddammit, I'm proud as hell of the reputation I have from that red. I'm proud of the weak asses in Alexandria not looking me in the eye as I walk past, scared of me. Scared of what I've done. Of what I'm capable of. I stand tall and proud, walking ahead and waiting for whatever crowd I face to part for me.

But when I step onto Deanna's doorstep, I'm weak. I don't know how in the world to tell her that her son is dead. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, then knock on the door. I clasp my hands behind my back, straightening my posture, and wait. Deanna flings open the door, and I catch a brief glimpse of relief on her face, thinking that I'm Aiden, before utter worry. "Where is he?" the leader of Alexandria asks.

"Run team leader Aiden Monroe carried out his mission and put up a heroic fight," I inform her, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "I regret to report that he did not survive. I'm sorry, ma'am."

Deanna lets out a heartbroken cry, Reg appearing beside her as if he sensed what was wrong. She clutches to her husband, and I close my eyes, looking down in silence. I turn and walk away, Deanna's heartbroken cries over her son echoing behind me. I continue on, trying to ignore her sobs, back to the house we're supposed to call home. It doesn't feel like it. Home's always where Daryl is, where Glenn or Carl are. It's where my family is, because I've never had a tangible home. Home's always been wherever we are, as long as everyone is there.

I stop in the street in front of Aaron and Eric's house, looking up at the porch. There's a light on in the living room, so I know Eric's home. Of course, with his ankle, it's not like he'd be out and about very much. I think of Aaron and Daryl out there, how worried I am for them. I debate between continuing to the others and going inside, just to see Eric. I climb the stairs, knocking on the door. Eric's eyes widen as he takes in the blood on my clothes, my hands, and my face. "What the hell happened?" he demands. "Are you okay?"

"I'm still breathin', heart's still beatin'," I say. "Does that count?"

"Get in here." Eric pulls me inside, placing a hand on my shoulder as he closes the door behind me. "Let me look at you."

"It's not my blood," I tell him. "Some of it might be, but I don't know. I don't know whose blood this is. There was _so much."_

Eric pulls me over to the couch so he doesn't have to stand on his broken ankle any longer, gesturing for me to sit. "What happened?"

"I… I killed Aiden."

" _What?"_

"He was hurt, bad. He had no chance of makin' it. Walker's were closin' in. I put him out of his misery. The walkers, they just—they closed in. The surrounded us on every side. We were trapped. Eugene, he got away. He stepped up and saved us."

Eric suddenly wraps me in a hug, resting his chin on my shoulder as he murmurs, "I'm glad you made it. I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm not okay."

"Then I'm glad you're alive."

I pull away from him, shaking my head. "Aiden's dead. I nearly killed Nicholas. Tara… it's bad. She's not bit, but it was pretty bad. Eugene's with her. He saved her. He saved everyone that made it home."

"Glenn? Noah?"

"It hit Glenn hard, Noah's death. He thinks it's his fault." My voice breaks first, followed by the rest of the emotional barriers I always have up. I start crying, letting out everything I've had building since Beth died less than a month ago. Eric holds me to his chest as I cry, rubbing my back. "I swore—"

"Don't talk," Eric whispers. "It's okay. Just let it out."

"I swore I'd never let anyone die that way again," I admit. "And then all I could do was watch Noah on the other side of that glass. I could hear his screams. I saw how scared he was. I looked him in the eyes as they tore him apart. He had this look in his eyes. 'Why didn't you do anything? Why didn't you help me?' That's what it was sayin'."

"Why don't you stay with me tonight?" Eric questions, looking down at me. "Stay here?"

"I can't ask that of you," I tell him, shaking my head.

"We've got an extra room. I don't mind."

"I, um, I…" I pause, thinking of the others. "I've gotta go, Eric. I gotta see the others. I gotta know they're okay. I've lost so much today. Nearly lost… might still lose. I need to go and check on the others. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Eric tells me. "I'll walk you to the door." Eric stays right beside me as we make our way to the door, his hand resting on my back. I open the door, stepping out. "Clary, hold up."

"Yeah?" I question, turning to look at him.

Eric takes my hands, looking down at me. "Come back tomorrow."

"I will," I promise, and this is one promise that I intend to keep. I drop his hands, continuing on down the street. I climb the stairs to the house, catching sight of Eric still standing on the porch. He goes back inside his home, knowing that I made it to mine safe, even if it is just four houses down. I walk inside the house, the ones living in there turning to look at me. "Eugene's with Tara," I tell them. "She was hurt pretty badly, but she's one tough ass. She'll make it."

"What about Noah?" Carl asks, getting to his feet. "Glenn?"

"Glenn's with Maggie," I answer. "Noah's never coming home."

I turn and climb the stairs, sitting on the edge of the bed I share with Carl. I stare down at my hands, not looking up as the door opens. The bed dips as he takes a seat beside me, silent. Carl and I sit side by side on the bed, just like we did the day Sophia died. "All we can do now is remember him," Carl says softly.

"That's harder than you think," I whisper, and Carl looks over at me. "There are times when I can't remember Sam's smile. Or his love of music. And I can't remember the way Sebastian laughed whenever he told us that stupid ass joke about a dog with no legs." I choke back a sob, thinking of my brothers that have left me. "That shit-eatin' grin Merle wore when he threw me in that lake." I look over at Carl, grinning as I tried not to cry. "Do you remember how Sophia used to follow me around after I kicked Ed's ass?"

"You were everything she ever wanted to be," Carl says. He pauses a moment, then says, "You listen to me, Cheyenne Dixon. You hang on to those memories, whatever the cost. Do whatever it takes. Forget all the bad memories, and cherish the good ones. They're the ones that matter. I know how hard it is to forget the bad ones. All I can remember is how mean I was to my mom before she died."

He wipes his eyes, both of us trying to not cry. I realize it's my turn, and say, "I promised Sam we'd get out of his house, outta Bronwood, alive. My last words to Merle? 'No one's gonna mourn you, not even Daryl or I. We have a new family. A better family.'"

Carl reaches over, brushing my hair out of my face and wiping away the tears that spilled over. "Every time you go out there, I'm so scared that I'll never see you again."

"Whenever I go out there, there's always a chance I won't make it back. But I try so damn hard to because I would never do that to you."

"Cheyenne, it would be a privilege to have my heart broken by you." He pauses for a second, then says, "Clary, remember Sam's smile. Think about the music that he loved. Imagine Merle's smile and the lake. Pretend that you can still hear Sebastian's laugh."

I look at him for a moment, then say, "I am naked in the dark, Carl, and there is no veil between me and the eye of fire. I begin to see it even with my waking eyes, and all else fades."

"What does that mean?" Carl asked.

"It's from _Return of the King_ , in _Lord of the Rings_. Frodo and Sam are on the cliffs of Mount Doom in Mordor and the ring is affecting Frodo. He can't remember the Shire. All he sees is the fire from Sauron and what will happen if Sauron gets the ring back. Basically, Sauron's power in the ring is affecting Frodo and making him forget who he is, and forget his memories of before.

"For me, the ring's this damn apocalypse. The Shire is everything before, and I'm starting to forget it. The fire and Sauron are like the future, and they're death, too. I see the same damn thing happening all the time. Everywhere we think is safe, it turns out it ain't. And then we run again, but not before we lose people. The ring is the apocalypse. They make Frodo and I forget our best memories."

* * *

 _ **~Glenn~**_

I find Nicholas scrubbing the back of the van, trying to get Tara's blood out. "Nicholas," I say, and he turns. "Don't talk. Just listen. Those four people you lost on the run, that's on you. One of them, Sebastian, he was everything to Clary. Aside from Daryl, he was all she had left. You don't even know how dangerous that makes her."

"She never even met Sebastian," Nicholas says.

"She grew up with him, Nicholas. They're from the same town. And what happened to Noah, that's on you, too. Those five lives, you have to carry that. People like you are supposed to be dead. But these walls went up just in time, so you're not. You don't go outside those walls anymore. Not by yourself, not with anyone else. And that's how you're gonna survive."

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Nicholas demands, stepping towards me.

"I'm someone who knows who you are. I know what you did. And it's not gonna happen again."

"I've been protecting this place, helping provide for it. You just got here."

"Don't forget what I said, Nicholas."

"Are you threatening me?"

I chuckle. "No. I'm saving you. But now this, this is the threat. You try to go outside, you try to do anything that will endanger anyone, and I will send Clary after you. After all, why deny her of her revenge? And I've seen what she does to people that piss her off. I can fight my own battles, but I let her do it, 'cause she does it a hell of a lot better."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

I lead the way through the woods, Aaron following closely behind me. We slow to a stop, staring down at the body parts below us. Lower halves and arms. No torsos, no heads. I look around at the carnage, telling Aaron, "Whoever did this took what was left with them." I notice how the blood is still wet on the clothing. "This just happened. Keep your gun up."

He does as I say as we continue on, both of us slowing to a stop as we see the woman's body tied to the tree up ahead, her intestines ripped out of her stomach and hanging there. "She's tied up," he says softly, the horror evident in his voice. "And they fed on her. Tore her apart." Aaron turns to look at me. "This just happened?"

"Yeah," I say, stepping forward. I brush her hair out of her face, lifting her head up to find a 'W' carved into her forehead.

"How the hell did this happen?"

Slowly, her eyes flutter open, milkiness masking whatever color they were before. The walker lets out a snarl, and I draw my knife, driving it into her head before she can snap at me. I let her head drop as I pull my arm back. "Clary and I," I say. "We saw a walker like that before. With a 'w' in its forehead."

"You think the same person did this?" Aaron questions. "You think they were the one with the fire we saw last night?"

"Yes and no," I answer. "Whoever did this, they saw that fire, too. They just found 'em 'fore we could. C'mon. Just standin' here ain't gonna help nothin'."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

From my spot balanced on the porch railing, I find myself staring at the wall, wondering how long it's going to be before it's taken down by the dead. Sooner or later, it always happens. No matter how hard you try to make a place safe, it will always fall to the dead. As the door opens, I don't tear my gaze away from the wall, ignoring whoever steps out. I hear Carol say, "Clary."

I ignore her.

"Cheyenne."

My eyes flick over as she used my first name. "What is it, Carol?"

"You need to talk to someone," she says.

"About what?" I say with a humorless laugh. "Noah's dead, Carol. He's the reason Beth and Ty are dead. I want to hate him for it so damn bad, but I just can't. He was so young, so inexperienced in this world. He had no idea what he was doing. He was so scared at that moment. I watched him die. 'I won't let go.' That's what I said to him. But I let go. I broke my promise, just like I did with Sophia. I tried to save him, I really did, but they got him. They just pulled him right out of my hands. I was holdin' on to him, like I was holdin' on to Sammy. Everyone that I've tried to save, I lost 'em. I–I don't think we get to save people anymore."

"Then why are you still here?"

"I'm tryin'. I'm so torn between livin' and just givin' up. But I'm still here 'cause Daryl needs me to be. And hell, sixteen years ain't long enough. This is the first time I've been out of Georgia."

I swing myself off the railing, dropping down into the grass. "Where are you going?" Carol asks.

"Eric's," I reply, glancing up at her. "I'll see you 'round, Carol." I walk down the street, knocking on Eric's door. "Hey, it's Clary!"

"Door's open!" comes his reply, and I open the door. "I'm in the kitchen."

I walk in to find him balancing on one leg, trying to cook dinner for himself. "Eric, sit down," I tell him. "I'll cook."

He takes a seat on one of the stools at the kitchen island, watching me as I cook him dinner. "You miss him?"

"Who?" I ask, looking over at him as I finish up. "Daryl?"

"Yeah," he says. "I miss Aaron."

"Yeah," I agree, ladling soup into a bowl and sliding it across the island to him. "I miss Daryl."

"Take some for yourself, Clary," Eric tells me. "There's more than enough."

"I'm alright," I say, taking a seat beside him. "Thanks anyway." I tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. "Yeah, I miss my brother. But they have each other's backs. They'll be home to us."

"They'll be back," Eric says, offering me a smile. I sit in silence, staring out the window while he eats. "Clary."

"Yeah?" I ask, glancing back over to him.

"Why don't you say what's on your mind? You're thinking about something."

I look down before saying, "Those people, the ones Aiden lost on that run. Sebastian and Alex. How long were they here?"

"They were some of the first people Aaron and I brought," Eric says softly. "They came about three or four months into it, I think. It was somewhere between there. They said they came from Georgia."

"Georgia?" I repeat, slowly realizing that it really was my Sebastian that was here. I had hope that it was someone else, anyone but Sebastian Widmore, but when Aiden said Alex, I knew it was them. But I was hoping it wasn't. "They were from Georgia?"

"Yeah," Eric says with a nod, not noticing the break in my voice. "They said they were at this refugee center." My nails dig into my palms as I curl my hands into fists, trying to not punch anything. Trying not to break down and cry in front of Eric. "Clary, you okay?"

"I knew them," I whisper after a few moments, not bothering to worry about breaking down as I let out a sob. "Seb, I grew up with him. He... he was my first kiss, but don't ever tell Carl that. Alex... I only met him once, that summer before the shit hit. Seb's girlfriends, he was never happy with 'em. But Alex, he was somethin' else. He made Sebastian happy, a lot happier than I've ever seen him." I sniffle, pushing my hair back out of my face. "I can't believe they were here. And that son of a bitch got 'em killed. I almost left him for the walkers, waited to hear the screams that he heard when he killed my friends. I should've, but Sebastian wouldn't have wanted me to, so I didn't. Instead, I put a bullet through his head and then I failed Noah the same way I failed Sam. The same way I failed Sebastian's brother. 'Cause I did what Seb woulda wanted me to do. What I never wanted to do. But I did it for him. If I could go back to that warehouse, do it all again, then you can be damn well sure I'd leave Aiden for the walkers. Without a second thought." I look up, facing Eric now. "So, you regret bringin' me here yet?"

"Never," Eric answers. "You need to be here, inside these walls. You've been out there too long. You're the type of person that saves people. That's why you killed Aiden before the walkers could get him, to spare him."

"I only save the people that deserve it."

"Then why'd you save Aaron?"

"He never gave me a reason not to. I didn't have a reason not to save him. I don't take chances anymore, Eric. I can't afford to. These sonsabitches, they get one strike, and if they blow it, then I will let them die. I won't save 'em. I won't risk myself to save the people that don't deserve it."

"Well, shit," Eric says after a moment. "I hope I never strike out."

"Yeah, I hope you don't either. I like you. I don't want to see you die."

I stand from as I hear the loud noises coming from down the street. Glass breaks, and then there's Reg, calling for his wife. I look at Eric, and he nods once, silently telling me to go. I immediately take off, sprinting to the source. I arrive to find Rick and Pete duking it out, Rick trying to strangle the doctor. Pete suddenly gets the upperhand, rolling Rick over so that he's now on top. Jessie jumps in, but Pete shoves her back, removing one hand from Rick's neck. The former police officer takes the chance and flips them back over yet again. Carl's arrived by now, and he runs forward, trying to pull Rick off. "Dad!" he says. "C'mon!"

Rick shoves his son away, and he stumbles, regaining his balance beside me. I suddenly remember Shane, how he threw Carl around after he found the two of us in the barn with Randall, the prisoner. I start forward, barking, "Rick! Get the hell off!"

I try to wrap my arms in a chokehold around his neck, but he pushes me back. Not as hard as Carl, and I step forward again, barking at him to cut it out. He swings his fist, not necessarily throwing a punch, but it still catches me. I fall back, landing on my side. "Clary!" Carl cries, rushing to my side.

I push him off, quickly rushing out that I'm fine, but I do accept his offer to pull me to my feet. Deanna's arrived now, telling Rick to stop, as if that'll help anything. He pulls Pete into a chokehold, threatening, "You touch them again, and I'll kill you."

I jump back in, knowing that Rick will kill Pete if I don't. No one else has the balls to stand up to him. I get my arms around Rick in a chokehold, growling, "Let him go, Rick!" When he doesn't, I ram my knee into the back of his leg, barking, "I said, let him go, dammit, Rick! Stop this shit!"

Rick only lets go of Pete now, then turns and shoves me back, away from him. I groan as my head strikes the pavement, and Glenn kneels beside me, knowing that my head was still hurting after yesterday. "Or what?" Rick calls out, and Glenn and I look up to see that he's drawn his gun. He's playing his secret hand, waving the weapon around at us. "What're you gonna do? Kick me out?"

Glenn slowly helps me to my feet, and he keeps his arm around my waist to support me, the other protectively holding me close to him. It's almost subconscious, the way he angles himself to shield me from Rick when he waves his gun in our direction. Deanna slowly, carefully, says, "Put that gun down, Rick."

"You still don't get it," Rick pants."None of you do! We know what needs to be done and we do it. _We're_ the ones who live. You, _you_ just sit and plan. And _hesitate._ You pretend like you know when you _don't!_ You wish things weren't what they are. Well, you want to live? You want this place to stay standing? Then your way of doin' things is done. Things don't get better because you _want_ them to."

"To surpass monsters, you must be willing to abandon your humanity," Glenn mutters softly, recognizing what Rick's trying to do. He means well, but he isn't going about this the right way.

"Starting right now," Rick continues, "we have to live in the _real world._ We have to control" —he gestures towards Pete— "who lives here."

"That's never been more clear to me than it is right now," Deanna says.

"Me?" Rick says, laughing. "You mean me? Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's _already_ gotten people killed. And I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen."

"You ain't the leader, Rick," I snap at him, stepping away from Glenn. "Accept that. Deanna's in charge. What she says, goes. If she wants you gone, then you're gone. Don't worry 'bout Carl and Judy, Rick. We'll keep them safe." Rick stares at me, realizing that it's the same thing that he said to Carol about Lizzie and Mika. I look Rick in his eyes, seeing the fire, the animal in them. "Live together, die alone," I say coldly. "Right?"

I'm stalling, keeping his attention on me until Michonne arrives, one of the only other people able to take Rick on with a chance of winning. I might not fully trust him, but we've been together through it all, and I'll be damned if I let him walk out of here alone, into exile. However, I've sold my performance enough that not only does he buy it, but Carl as well. I don't miss the look I get from my boyfriend, a look of utmost betrayal. I can tell that Carl's about ready to say something, but before he can, Rick speaks, talking to everyone here. He says, "If you don't fight, you die. I'm not gonna stand by—"

He's cut off as Michonne appears behind him, smacking him in the head with enough force to knock him out. She looks around at us after taking his gun, and I meet her gaze, nodding once. She knew I was stalling, giving her enough time to take him out.

"Rick means well," I say, projecting my voice so everyone can hear. I look directly at Carl as I speak, wanting to make sure that he knows that I didn't mean what I said. "I don't trust that son of a bitch, but dammit, he means well. He does not want this community to fall to them. To the _dead_. He wants to give you a _chance_ to _survive_ in this world. 'To surpass monsters, you must be willing to abandon your humanity.' Rick's sacrificed so much for our group before we ever even came here, before we even _left_ Georgia. The only thing he's got left to lose, other than Carl, than Judy, than his _family_ , is his _humanity._ And he's ready to throw that aside to save all of you dumb fucks that can't even look at a damn walker without pissin' yourself. Rick Grimes may just be the best damn thing that's ever happened to this weak ass community."


	13. Conquer

**_~Rick~_**

I groan as I come around, glancing out the window at the light streaming in. I chuckle as I look around, then lie back down on the mattress. "What's so funny?" Michonne questions.

I remove my hand from over my eyes, sitting up. "You were here the whole time?"

"All night," she answers. "What's so funny?"

"It's like the train car," I say after a moment. "After the whole thing, I'm still there."

"Deanna wanted you in here, calm things down," Michonne tells me, knowing my next question would be why I'm in the barely built house. "Rosita patched you up. Carl came by for a while. Clary took him home. She's trying to convince them to let you stay right now." She gets to her feet, pulling her chair closer to me. "Rick. What're you doing?" I sigh, rubbing the back of my head where she hit me, not answering. "We put Pete in another house. You could've told me what was happening. Clary's downright pissed you didn't tell her. I mean, she's ready to kill him. But she's focusing on keeping you here."

"It moved fast," I finally say. "And then Noah. Hell, after that, I'm not sure what Clary would've done to anyone here if they pissed her off. I couldn't tell you about the gun."

"No, you couldn't."

"Oh, you wanted this place."

"We had to stop being out there."

"Well," I say, looking around the room serving as my cell. "We're here."

She scoffs. "You just said you weren't."

I look over as the door opens, Glenn stepping through. He's followed by Carol, Abraham, and none other that Clary Dixon. I turn my attention back to Michonne as she questions, "Where'd you get the gun?"

"You took it, right?" Carol interjects. "From the armory?"

"Christ, Rick," Clary says, following Carol's lead of playing dumb, pretending not to know about me having the gun. "I thought you were smarter than that. Why'd you do it?"

I shrug. "Just in case."

"Deanna's planning on having a meeting tonight," Clary says. "That's all I could get her to agree to. It's for anyone who wants to." Clary looks down at me. "There's a very good chance that she's gonna try to kick you out. I got her to agree to a vote, a trial. You should be damn glad you got that."

"We don't know that, Clary," Glenn says, placing a hand on her arm. "Maggie's with her now, trying to find out what it is."

"We don't need Maggie to try to find out," she snaps, speaking with a tone harsher than she'd ever use with Glenn. "I've been in Rick's shoes. She's gonna try to kick him out. This time, there's gonna be people fightin' for you. Don't fuck it up."

Clary pulls her arm out of Glenn's grasp, turning and walking out the door. Carol glances after her, then turns to me. "At the meeting, you say you were worried about someone being abused and no one was doing anything about it. You say you took a gun just to be sure that Jessie was safe from a man that wound up attacking you. You say you'll do whatever you want them to. Just tell them a story that they want to hear." Carol glances at Glenn and Abraham. "It's what I've been doing since I got here."

"Why?" Michonne questions.

"Because these people are children and children like stories."

"What happens after all the nice words and they still try to kick him out?" Abraham questions.

"They're guarding the armory now," Glenn points out, knowing what Abraham was suggesting.

"We still have knives," comes Clary's voice, and we turn as she walks back in. "That's all we need against 'em. They can't fight. Hell, Tobin or Spencer's probably the most muscle they have, and I could take 'em, easy. Tonight, at the meeting, Rick, it's gonna be your call. You send out your bat signal, a whistle, whatever. Carol takes Deanna, Rick grabs Spencer, 'chonne takes Reg. Glenn, Abe, and I cover y'all, watch the crowd."

"We can talk to them," Michonne interrupts, obviously surprised that Clary's train of thought is damn near the same as mine right now.

"We will," I say. "Exactly what Clary said. If we can't get through, we take three of them and say we'll slit their throats. Michonne, if you won't, then Clary, you grab Reg."

"Like at Terminus?" Glenn interrupts.

"No. We just tell 'em. They give us the armory and it's over."

"Did you want this?" He turns to Clary. "Did either of you?"

"No," I answer, and Clary says, "We need to live here. But if they're too damn stupid to see the shitstorm that's outside those walls, of what could come in here, then goddammit, this is what we have to do."

"I screwed up," I say after a moment. "Now here we are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna sleeps some more."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

As usual, Aaron follows me through the woods, as I follow a trail. "Somebody came through here a while ago," I tell him.

"If we see them, we hang back, set up the mike, watch and listen," Aaron decides.

"For how long?"

"Until we know. We have to know."

"You've sent people away?"

Aaron hesitates, but he answers. "Yeah."

"What happened?" I question.

"It was early on. Three people. Two men and a woman. Davidson was their leader. Smart as hell, strong. I thought they'd work out."

"They didn't?" I guess.

"I brought them in and I had to see them out. So me, Aiden, and Nicholas, we drove them out far, gave them a day's worth of food and water, and we left them."

"They just went?" I ask, glancing back at him.

"We had their guns. We had all the guns. I can't make that kind of mistake again."

* * *

 ** _~Rick~_**

I jump as I feel a hand on my shoulder, jerking awake. I blink, rubbing my eyes, to see Carol sitting on the mattress beside me. I sit up, leaning against the wall, and wondering what the hell she's doing here. "It's good what happened last night," she says. "We have more cover now. All of them think you've been found out, that it's over. I made Clary take the third gun."

Carol offers me the final gun, which I take before asking, "Why didn't you want to tell them we had more guns?"

"Michonne stopped you," Clary says, and I follow her voice to a dark corner. She steps forward, out of her hiding place. For the first time, I notice the scratch on the side of her face, right where I would've hit her last night. I look down at my hand, remembering the marks on her face after her fights with Shane, and I find myself wondering, have I reached that level yet? I look back up at her as she says, "Michonne knocked you out, Rick."

"I deserved it," I say, still staring at the mark I left. "After I hit you."

"What you did was stupid. But I ain't pissed 'bout that. Michonne, she's with us. Glenn is, too."

"But I still didn't tell them about the guns just in case," Carol tells me.

I sigh, looking up at the ceiling before turning to Carol. "I don't want to lie anymore."

"You said you don't want to take this place. And you don't want to lie? Oh, sunshine, you don't get both."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

Just as Aaron guessed, we found the person that made the trail. A man sporting a red poncho, which is what drew our attention to him. As I look through the binoculars, Aaron sets up the mike to listen to anything he would say, even if he is alone. I watch as Red bends over, picking something up off the ground and rubbing it on his face. "What's he doing?" Aaron questions.

"Wild leeks," I answer, lowering the binoculars. "Son of a bitch knows how to keep mosquitos off of him." As Red turns and disappears into the tree line, I start off after him. "C'mon."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

I don't look up as the door opens, but I turn when Carl gets to his feet, gently pushing me off of him. I fall back on the couch as I hear him say, "Dad."

I get to my feet, watching as he walks over to meet his father at the door. "You okay?" Carl questions.

"I'm fine," Rick tells him, then looks over at me as I step towards them. "Clary, I didn't get a chance to tell you earlier, but I'm sorry."

"I already told you, I ain't pissed 'bout that," I say, stepping up beside Carl. "Superman, over here, on the other hand, well…"

"Would you stop calling me Superman?" Carl mutters, looking over at me. "I already told you, I'm not a hero."

"You always do what's right."

Carl's silent for a moment, then looks up at his father. "I protected her from Shane, from whatever she needed protecting from, even when she said she didn't. I never thought I'd have to protect her from you. You made me a promise, Dad, that you wouldn't ever hurt her."

"Look, I'm sorry," Rick tries.

"No. No, you broke a promise. Back on the farm, after town, after you saw a glimpse of what she's capable of and how dangerous she can be, you swore to me that you would never lay a hand on her. Not unless she went off on someone in the group! Unless you had no other choice! You had every reason _not to!"_

"Carl," I say softly, resting my hand on his arm. I knew he was pissed, but I didn't think he'd start yelling at his dad. "Carl, stop. It's okay."

"No, it's not!" he cries, looking over at me. "He hit you, Clary!"

"Carl, listen to me. Please. I'm okay. I have had to endure so much worse. It's a scratch."

"He promised, Clary. You never break promises."

"You never break your loyalty. You never turn your back. But promises, hell, I can't keep promises. I promised Sam the day he died that I would never leave my family, but back in Atlanta, I walked away. I was ready to leave this group, and I did. I only found Carol and Daryl again 'cause we just happened to be in the same building."

"You were going to leave?" Carl questions, and the hurt I see in his eyes nearly brings tears to mine. "You were going to leave us?"

I wrap my arms around his neck, and he slowly places an arm around me. Rick turns to walk off, but Carl stops him by saying, "I heard about the meeting."

"You're staying home," Rick tells him.

"Is that what this is now? Are we finally calling it home?"

Rick hesitates before answering. "Yeah."

"They need us here. You know that, right? They'll die without us."

"I might have to threaten one of them," Rick says, starting back towards us, and I step away from Carl, standing silently beside Rick. I slip back into soldier mode, a mode I never really leave, as he tells Carl exactly what might go down tonight. "We could have to kill one of them."

"You won't," Carl tries.

"We might."

"You have to tell them."

"I told them last night."

"You have to tell them so they can hear you."

"I don't know if they can."

"You _have_ to tell them." Carl sighs. "If you say that you might have to do that tonight, then do me a favor."

"What?"

"Don't bring Clary."

"Carl!" I object, ending my silence.

"Clary, listen. I talked to Mikey. His dad spun a story about how you killed Aiden."

"I did. I ended it."

"No, that's not what I meant. Nicholas made it seem like they could have saved Aiden, but you shot him instead. And then you tried to kill Nicholas."

"You're damn right I did."

"Clary, stop, dammit!" Carl cries, and I shut my mouth at his outburst. "I'm sorry, but stop. They are watching you _very_ closely. What you said yesterday, your act of siding with Deanna, that helped you not get kicked out. You make one wrong move, and you will be gone." He gestures to his father. "Even if they don't kick him out, if you mess up at all, then they're gonna kick you out. Deanna thinks you murdered her son. If you go along with my dad's plan tonight, then I won't ever see you again."

* * *

 ** _~Daryl~_**

"We checked the forests, and we checked the roads, Daryl," Aaron says, still watching the shipping warehouse for Delarno Foods that we found. Walkers mill around within, but it looks like the place hasn't been touched. "We can't find him. Sometimes they slip away. It happens. But you don't come across something like this every day."

"We do this now, it means we're giving up," I say.

"Home is fifty miles back. It's time to go. You saw it last night. There's bad people out here."

"That's why we ought to keep looking for the good ones," I object, even though I am ready to get home to check on Clary.

"We need more people, and we'll find them," he assures me, looking over. "But when we do, we'll need to feed them."

"Alright," I give, pulling out my knife. I tap it against the fence separating us from the walkers within, drawing them over by the sound. We easily take out the few in there, pulling open the gate and heading for the trucks. We take a quick glance around, and I turn as Aaron laughs, saying, "Whoa! I wasn't sure I'd ever see one of these."

He kneels by the license plate, unscrewing it. "What is it?" I ask him, curious.

"Alaska," he answers as I start away, looking around. "Listen, I don't like giving up either, but the guy _is_ in a red poncho. You can see him from a mile away. We've got a lot of miles here. No sign of him." Aaron gets to his feet, walking down to meet me. "But if we come back with a trailer full of cans, I'd say that's a good trip."

I kneel, undoing the latch keeping one closed. Just as it shoots up, I hear the snarling. I scramble to my feet as all of the trailers open, Aaron pulling me back when he sees the walkers. We run back down the way we came up, taking down two of the many walkers before I pull him with me under a trailer. Walkers fall to the ground, crawling under towards us. I grab a chain beside me, pulling out my knife to put a walker down, then hesitate for a second when I see the W in the forehead before killing it. "C'mon," I tell him, crawling out the side that it's on.

I scramble to my feet, seeing the three walkers moving towards us. I look down at the chain, then swing it, killing the three walkers at once. "Did you see that?" I ask Aaron as he joins me.

"Damn Ghost Rider!" he replies, taking out one that was coming up behind us. I realize that we're not going to make it to the gate, not with all these walkers in here, and change direction, heading for one of the cars and praying that it's unlocked. I open one door, sliding across to the driver's seat as Aaron follows me in. Walkers crowd around us on every side, clawing at the windows. "Glass will hold for a while, right?" he asks, eyes flicking from the walkers back to me.

"Maybe," I say. "Maybe we can make it so they can't see us. In a couple of hours, something will come by, they'll follow it out. There's got to be something in here we can use to block the view." I lean back in the backseat. "We can cut up these seats."

"Daryl!" Aaron suddenly says, and I turn back to find him holding a piece of paper. I sit back in the front seat, leaning over his shoulder to read the letter. _Trap. Bad people coming. Don't stay._

"Oh, shit," I breathe, sitting back in my seat. I look out the window at the walkers, wondering how long it will take for the "bad people" to get here. I chuckle after a moment.

"What?" Aaron questions.

"I came out here to… I feel all closed up back there. Even now, it still feels more like me than back in them houses. That's pretty messed up, huh?"

"You were trying."

"I had to."

"No, you didn't. Listen, I saw you with your group out there on the road. Then you two went off and found the barn. Storm hit, and you led your people to safety. That was it. I knew I had to bring your people back. You were right. We should have kept looking for the guy in the poncho. I shouldn't have given up. You didn't."

I reach down, pulling a cigarette out of my pack. "I'll go," I say, lighting it. "I'll lead 'em out. You make a break for the fence."

"No, no," Aaron objects. "I'll go. It's my fault."

"It wasn't a question," I tell him. "And this ain't your decision. It ain't nobody's fault. If you make it back, do me a favor, and tell C—"

"No," Aaron objects. "No. We'll make it. Together."

"I'll give you a chance," I say. "Just let me finish my smoke first. Aaron, you gotta promise me somethin', though."

"Anything," he says.

"You take care of Clary. I know we've got the group, but she's gotta let others in. We've lost so many of our group. She's shutting everyone off again. She trusts you, I can tell. I need you to take care of her for me."

"We're gonna make it," Aaron argues. "We will. Together. I'll still take care of her. But we are both getting out of here alive."

I look over at him. "I'm givin' you a chance, and you take it, you hear me?"

He's quiet, then says, "No. You don't draw them away. We fight. We go for the fence. We do it together. Alright, whether we make it or not, we do it together. We have to."

"Alright," I say, then put out my cigarette, pulling out my knife. "We go on three. One, two—"

I'm cut off by a clunk on the window next to Aaron, blood splattering it. The door is pulled open, and we quickly climb out, a man holding off the walkers long enough for us to get out. We push through them, running for the gate. We close it off after him, watching the dark skinned man carefully. He's about Rick's age, and carries a wooden bo staff that he cleans off with a cloth. Aaron laughs in relief, saying, "That was, oh, thank you." The man nods once. "I'm Aaron. This is Daryl."

"Morgan," the man that saved us answers.

"Why?" I ask him.

"Why?" he repeats. "Because all life is precious, Daryl."

"Whoever set that trap, they're coming," Aaron says. "But, um, I have good news. We do. We have a community, not too far from here. Walls, electricity, it's safe. If you'd like to come join us—"

"I thank you," Morgan says, cutting him off. "But I'm on my way somewhere. Fact is, I'm lost, so if you could tell me where we are."

He hands over a folded up map, and I take it, looking down at the writing. I freeze as I read it. It's Abraham's handwriting, the note he left on the map for Rick. _Sorry I was an asshole. Come to Washington. The new world's gonna need Rick Grimes._ I look up at Morgan, and I ask him, "You from Georgia?" He nods once. "You know Rick?" He nods again. "You're coming with us."

* * *

 ** _~Clary~_**

I sit in silence next to Eric, staring into the fire. I glance up at him as he nudges my arm, taking my hand. "You okay?" he asks, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.

"You know what's going on," I say, and he does. I came to him after Carl told me, about how close I was to being forced to leave this place. "I can't do anything if it goes to shit."

"I know," he replies. "I know." Eric glances up as people turn to look at us, and he switches gears. "Worried about Rick?"

"Glenn and Carl." He looks over at me, slightly confused. "I ain't seen Glenn all day. And Carl, hell, I don't know what it'll do to him if Rick's gotta leave. He lost his mom. He can't lose his dad, too."

"It'll be okay, Clary."

I get to my feet, seeing Maggie looking around not too far from us. "Maggie," I say. "Where's Glenn?"

"I don't know," she replies, equally worried.

"We're going to start," Deanna announces.

We look up at her. "Can we wait?" Maggie inquires. "There's still people coming. Glenn, Rick."

"We're going to start," Deanna repeats. "It's already dark. We're going to talk about what happened. Not the fight. Not what precipitated it. We're dealing with that. We're going to talk about one of our constables, Rick Grimes. We're going to talk about how he had a pistol he stole from the armory, about how he pointed it at people. And we're going to talk about what he said. I was hoping he'd be here."

"She said he's coming," Michonne says.

"I'm sure he'll be here," Carol says from her spot beside Eugene. "And I'm sure we can work this all out."

Michonne stands. "What Clary said yesterday, she's right. Rick has sacrificed a lot for us. And after being out there, and then not being how you were out there, it can drive you crazy. Rick just wants his family to live. He wants all of you to live. Who he is is who you're gonna be… if you're lucky."

We take turns speaking, presenting our cases for Rick to stay. Carol speaks after Michonne. "Rick Grimes saved my life over and over," she lies. More like the other way around. Still, she continues on with the weak, den mother facade. "There's terrifying people out there. And he rescued me from them. People like me, people like us need people like him." She turns to look at Deanna. "I know what happened last night was scary. And I'm sure he's sorry for that. But maybe we should listen to what he was saying."

Abraham stands up for Rick next. "Simply put, there is a vast ocean of shit that you people don't know shit about. Rick knows every fine grain of said shit and then some."

Abraham turns to look at me, and I stand. "I know how close I am to be gettin' tossed out on my ass," I say, staring Deanna down. "I know that Nicholas spun a story 'bout what happened at the warehouse. So I'm puttin' myself on the line here to defend the son of a bitch that did the same damn thing to me that y'all are tryin' to do to him. You know what I said before, what I said yesterday. But I'm not here to stand up for Rick. I'm here to fight for Carl." I get a few looks of confusion at that. "He's lost his mother. His dad nearly went off the deep end before. I'm here fightin' to keep Rick here so he don't lose both parents."

"My father respected Rick Grimes," Maggie says. "Rick's a father, too. He's a man with a good heart who feels the things he does, the things he has to do. And all of us, who were together before this place, no matter when we found each other, we're family now. Rick started that. And you won't stop it. You can't. And you don't want to. This community, you people… that family… you want to be a part of it, too."

"Before we hear from anyone else," Deanna starts. "I would like to share something in the spirit of transparency. Father Gabriel came to see me the day before yesterday and he said our new arrivals can't be trusted, that they were dangerous, that they would put themselves before this community."

"That fuckin' Judas priest!" I exclaim, getting to my feet. "I fuckin' knew I shoulda killed him!"

"Clary, stop!" Eric says, grabbing for my wrist as I start forward. "Stop. This won't help anything."

Realizing that he's right, I take a seat beside him. Maggie looks at him, obviously surprised that he subdued me that easily. Deanna glares at me before continuing, "Not one day later, Rick seemed to demonstrate all the things Father Gabriel said. I had hoped Gabriel would be here tonight."

"He's fuckin' lucky he ain't," I mutter to Eric.

"I don't see him here, Deanna," Jessie says, and I look up at the sound of her voice. "So you're just saying what someone said. Did you tape him?"

"He's not here," Maggie agrees.

"Neither is Rick," Deanna opposes. Maggie turns and walks away, and Tobin gets to his feet, saying, "I just want to keep my family safe. You know? And I don't even know what that means anymore, but if it means that we've got to get rid of—"

"Fuck this!" I bark, getting to my feet. "Y'all heard what I said yesterday! You ain't gonna throw Rick out, 'cause if you do, then I'm goin', too! And without us here, y'all are gonna die. You have no idea how to survive. You _need_ people like us."

I look up as I hear footsteps, and look to see Rick himself arrive, blood splattered on his face, a body thrown over his shoulder. "Rick."

He pushes past Deanna, throwing the body to the ground, and I see that it's a walker. I meet his eyes, and I don't even need for him to say it for me to know that it got in. Rick calls out, "There wasn't a guard on the gate. it was open."

"Spencer!" I bark, remembering seeing Deanna's son on gate duty earlier.

"I asked Gabriel to close it," he defends himself.

"Go," Deanna orders, and he takes off.

"I didn't bring it in," Rick says, looking towards the terrified townspeople. "It got inside on its own. They always will. The dead and the living, because we're in here. And the ones out there, they'll hunt us. They'll find us. They'll try to use us. They'll try to kill us. But we'll kill them. We'll survive. I'll show you how." He locks eyes with me. " _We'll_ show you how." He turns to look at Reg and Deanna, at the others. "You know, I was thinking, I was thinking of how many of you do I have to kill to save your lives? But I'm not gonna do that. You're gonna change. I'm not sorry for what I said last night. I'm sorry for not saying it sooner. You're not ready, but you have to be. Right now, you have to be. Luck runs out."

"You're not one of us." I turn to look to see who said that, and I see Pete stumbling forward, obviously drunk. Then, I see the katana in his hand. "You're not one of us!"

Reg rushes forward, stepping to block Pete from going any further. "Pete, you don't want to do this," he warns.

"Get the hell away from me, Reg," Pete snaps.

"Pete, just stop."

It continues like that for a few seconds, Pete telling Reg to back off, Deanna trying to get her husband's attention, and Reg trying to get Pete to stop. Pete, not having it anymore, shoves Reg away from him, slitting his throat in the process. Deanna lets out a horrified scream, catching her husband, Rick frozen in shock, while Abraham and I start forward at the same time. I reach Pete first, knocking Michonne's katana out of his hand and shoving him to the ground. I put my knee on his back, pulling his arms behind him, and he cries, "This is him!"

"Shut the hell up!" I bark at him, Abraham hovering near me. "Abe, I got this!"

Deanna sobs as her husband drowns in his own blood, Rick still frozen, unsure of what to do. I pull out my gun, pressing it against the back of Pete's head. He keeps struggling, obviously thinking that I won't shoot him, and I bark, "Move an inch and I'll blow your fuckin' brains out!"

"Rick," Deanna says, looking up. "Do it."

Before I can pull away, Rick spins and aims his gun, putting a bullet in Pete's head. His blood splatters my face, and I fall back, falling on my back beside his body.

"Rick?"

All of our heads snap up at the sound of his voice, but what catches me off guard is that I _recognize_ it. Abraham kneels beside me, helping me up, as I turn to look at the source of the voice. Three men stand there, and I gasp when I recognize the one in the middle. Before I can say his name, Rick does.

"Morgan."


	14. Author's note

**This chapter is literally just an author's note because I wanted to let y'all know that I'm uploading the prologue of my next TWD fic right now! And, on my YouTube channel, I uploaded a trailer for it, so go check it out. Link:** **watch?v=WavhuZSh5Mc**

 **Anyways, I uploaded this since I had a few people following this story but not following me, and I wanted to let you guys know that I have the continuation of Walk A Lonely Road.**


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